


Screw the Bassist

by LadyAriaa



Series: Metalverse Madness [1]
Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 13:00:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 140,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/431473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAriaa/pseuds/LadyAriaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A random stoy set in a world of metal. The brief tale of how a fearsome band recruited their final member, and how a lonely bassist changed everything. AU story, contains swearing, violence and eventual slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Bassist

**Author's Note:**

> This story involves counterparts are of my own design and do not necessarily entirely reflect the personalities of the canon characters… reader discretion is advised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so this was supposed to be a short smut story involving redesigns I did for Bushroot and Liquidator but there were other ideas that decided to force themselves into my writing so I have decided to split it up into multiple chapters. So enjoy my crazy look into the metalverse of Darkwing Duck.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Darkwing Duck or any of its characters. That honor belongs to the almighty Disney. I have made no money off of writing this, it just pleases me. The characters used in this story were inspired by a band poster I did for the fearsome five. If you wanna know what they're supposed to look like in this you can see the picture on DA.
> 
>  
> 
> Warning: Swearing, possibly violence, eventual gay sex and uh… metal? Does metal count? Well you've been warned.

* * *

Within a St. Canard of some distortion, metal rules. It is a domain of darkness where the stifling haze of pollution never seems to lift and only the veil of night offers any reprieve from the retched vision that is reality. The many inhabitants of this realm have long since shaped their actions to suit the ruthless world in which they live, taking comfort only in the shadows and lending their worship to the twisted world of a single band.

From the center of the many buildings rises a tribute to the might of these music gods: a monumental presence of metal and concrete masquerading as a home. The structure is imposing and lacks the warmth of any rightful household, a place normally devoid of the visitors more common to normal dwellings, but the vast manor stirred that day, feeding greedily off the blind adoration of a hundred hopeful followers. The silent chambers in the majority of the large home betrayed the normally heavy atmosphere of the grounds. Nothing but the muted screams filtering through the walls were resident echoes, and only the potential members packed within the massive front hall lent the manor any life.

Just beyond the long, crowded corridor massive doors concealed the metal messiahs. A red glow was all that was offered to combat the murk of the room's many dark fissures, bathing the characteristic carvings on the walls in bloodstained light. Even the large table in the center of the room was riddled with crimson patterns of malevolent scenes: dark designs, incredibly intricate in their twisted nature giving bold witness to the currency that went into them. It was the only well-lit area of the room, casting menacing shadows upon the resident musicians at its back. After an apparently endless influx of applicants the exhausted quartet could hardly claim enthusiasm at the thought of seeing anymore under qualified bassists to replace their recent mishap. They had never wasted so much time looking for a capable musician among the drooling droves as they had that day, but replacing bassists was just an inevitable and perpetual part of their reality.

Beneath the pale spotlight one of the many hopeful fans dug his own grave in blissful oblivion. The mediocre melody drifting from his strings had long since lost the attention of most of the band, and the only reason he had not been stopped already was the currently unconscious state of a certain lead singer. They had only been a few moments into the latest audition before the mallard's head had hit the table. His arms now hung lifelessly at his side, bright yellow coat slightly askew and back bent uncomfortably to allow his masked face to rest gently on the surface in front of him. Even in his sleep his scowl attested to his foul mood. The concoction of dog and water to his left was far more interested in the amber bottle in his hand than the trial going on in front of him. The long, flowing dreadlocks that were signature of the drummer slid back, dripping softly at the shift as he tipped the bottle up to look inside. A soft frown was the only response to the lack of alcohol. When the brief search proved futile, the disapproving canine lowered the empty container to stare at the annoyingly adorable vulpine still playing in front of them. In spite of his boredom, a glance down the table told him that he was definitely less out of it than his fellow performers. The red and black clad jester beside Negaduck was obviously having a far harder time than the rest of them. His leg shook furiously from the effort of being so uncharacteristically inert causing the small bells dangling above his exposed midsection to jingle softly in response to the vibrations. How could they expect him to sit still so long just to look at a bunch of losers?

Jack leaned forward over the table, resting his chin on its sleek surface as he frowned at the current dupe. "Boooo," he spat at the increasingly boring guitarist.

"Ugh, I agree. I can barely hear and I'm less tone deaf than this asshole. Can we just end this, or… whatever it is we do again?"

Jack shifted his gaze lazily towards the source of the comment. The slim rat was leaning back in his ornate, metal chair, feet propped on the table's surface and ever present guitar in his grip. Even though Jack couldn't see through his friend's dark glasses, years of familiarity with the voltage junkie told him that his gaze was unfocused: a sure signal that what little attention he had to give was waning.

"We end them Sparky. End them good," Jack replied, never lifting his chin from the table.

Bud stared down his drained bottle with disdain. Now he would have to track down someone to get him more booze. Bud grumbled slightly at the inconvenience, glancing over to the apparently oblivious bassist in front of them. "Hmm," he mumbled tossing the now useless whiskey bottle over his shoulder where it broke with a soft shatter. "Since Negs is apparently too out of it to offer an opinion at the moment, I think we can all agree to ditch this bitch."

After a quick glance at the passed out drake next to him Jack quickly straightened, bouncing slightly in his seat. "Oh, oh! I get ta press the button." He didn't wait for permission from his band mates before slamming his palm roughly against the large, red button just in front of the resting bird.

The action not only sent the pathetic hopeful screaming down a deep crevice to the fearsome bowels of the house but woke the sleeping mallard with the aggravation of the resulting noise. Negaduck lifted his head with a growl, rubbing at the large crack in his bill as Jack quickly slipped his hand behind his back as if the action would be sufficient to mask his guilt. The now fuming duck glanced around him, the furious red of his eyes scanning for the annoyance that would dare wake him. An innocent smile lit up Jack's face as the burning eyes of the other man fixed upon him.

"Did you press my button fuck face?" The question was cold and harsh with a knowing tone beneath it. Negaduck knew damn well who had touched his button; the cackling jester  _always_  managed to push his buttons.

"Uhh… no?"

Negaduck stared daggers at him, his pupil-less crimson eyes eliciting the proper response of dread as Jack stared into their endless depths. He reached forward slowly to grip the back collar around the clown's neck yanking the other man forward harshly so that their beaks were mere centimeters apart. "Don't  _ever_  touch my button asswhipe," Negaduck hissed.

"Got it boss," Jack choked, his voice slightly harsh from the pressure on his throat. "I don't get to play with the button."

Negaduck gave him one last snarl before releasing his grip. "Don't you forget it bitch." As the perturbed rhythmist caught his breath and rubbed his fingers gently along his tender neck, the singer turned his attention to the massive list of names in front of him. He pulled a small knife from his boot, slashing off the latest failure. "Well, at least that's one more asshole down," he mumbled.

Elmo cocked his head to the side at the statement— struck by a rare moment of contemplation. He let himself fall forward so that the chair was no longer tipped, the resulting clank of the steel legs hitting the marble floor earning him the attention of the others. "Do ya ever feel bad for 'em?" he questioned randomly.

"Fuck no! They knew what they were in for," Jack replied, pausing to pull out one of the wavers he had conveniently stored in his pants. "It states clearly in this release form that shitty performance may, and probably will, result in disembowelment."

"Yeah, well still sucks for any dumb ass who tries to be our bassist," Bud decided to contribute now that he had received another bottle of whiskey from a nameless underling.

"Pfft, who gives a shit about the bassist anyway? How many have we gone through in the past month? Ten or some shit?" Jack said, scratching absently at the thick plumage above his shirt.

"Heh, gotta admit though, some of them  _were_  pretty fun to get rid of," Elmo snickered.

"Heehehee, like that Damien douchebag?"

It only took a knowing glance from the grinning clown to set the two off in a fit of bizarrely synchronized laughter. Negaduck rubbed at his temples as he fumed. He was really starting to regret drinking as much as he had the night before. As the two continued to laugh, he calmly reached behind Jack's head before slamming it furiously onto the table. Elmo bit his lip to stifle the laughs as his friend rubbed at his now sore head.

"Oooh, man," Jack groaned, "That was slightly worse than usual."

A gurgling snort sounded from the opposite end of the table in response.

Jack flipped his head abruptly to glare at the smirking puddle. "Go fuck yourself Bud," he grumbled.

The still smiling drummer smooched his moist lips at his perturbed band mate and gained a certain vulgar finger in return. Negaduck shot a burning scowl at Bud just to warn him to choose his actions carefully. The watery canine simply leaned his head on his hand and sat back to watch the show.

Convinced the other wouldn't be an issue, Negaduck returned his attention to the two guitarists at his right. "You wanna know who cares about the bassist, faggot? I DO! I'm fuckin' sick of being here and if we don't FINISH this soon I swear to all that is evil that I will tear your balls out through your throat. SO SHUT YOUR OVERSIZED FACE!"

Jack slouched down in his chair at the none-too-subtle demand, crossing his arms over his chest dramatically as a pouting expression settled on his face.

Negaduck turned to the list he had just been using as a pillow, satisfied for the moment that Jack would shut his hole for at least a little while. He made a mental note to make him suffer later as his red eyes struggled to focus through the irritating haze that had impaired his vision. He growled at the paper he was attempting to read, tossing the clipboard to the side when his efforts proved unsuccessful. "Just send the next asshole in!" he spat at the nearest lackey as he leaned his elbows on the table so he could rub at his burning eyes.

The servant's mumbled obedience went ignored as the employee rushed over to produce the next applicant. The towering doors groaned in protest as they were forced open to admit the newest victim. Negaduck slid his hands off his eyes, forcing them to make out the newcomer despite their exhaustion.  _He'd better be fucking good,_  he thought to himself.

Each member of the group took in the new arrival, all sizing him up in their own way. Only Elmo seemed not to care much; he was far too interested in plucking at his guitar to even really notice the lanky bird as he approached. The messy black mop of hair and dim lighting in the room shielded much of the slender duck's face and transformed him into something of a walking enigma. Bud fiddled with the leather collar encircling his neck as he watched the figure trudge closer, suddenly struck by the other man's peculiar lack of pigment. The black and white trench coat against his pale plumage made him look as though he was ripped from an old movie and forced into a technicolor dimension. His slightly tattered pants and boots did little to lend any contrast with their dark hues leaving only the orange shine of his bill to prove he existed in a colored world at all. The long coat trailed behind him as he walked towards the group held down only by the guitar that was slung over his back. He came to a stop some five feet in front of the scrutinizing band, finally lifting his head to observe the others. His long, shaggy bangs cast shadows along his static face in a slightly irregular display of light and darkness making his brilliant blue eyes stand out that much more and making it very difficult for Bud not to stare. So there was some color after all.

After his cursory inspection of the figures in front of him, the blank-faced man dropped his gaze once again as he fished through the inner pocket of his coat. Slim fingers produced a crinkled pack of cigarettes from which he shook one of the sticks loose, pulling it out with his beak and lighting it quickly. The entire action was fluid with familiarity giving evidence of his chain-smoking nature. There was something oddly enthralling to Bud about the abnormal presence of the so-called fan in front of them: something in the unusually indifferent attitude that seemed to draw him in. Or maybe it was just the stunning eyes.

"So," Negaduck growled, "I'm fuckin' pissed off and hung over as hell. So tell us whatever lame name your filthy parents saddled you with and play your shit guitar before I kill something."

The potential bassist was silent for a moment as though there was something in the simple question that necessitated additional thought. "Reginald Bushroot," he stated starkly.

"Pfft, gay name," Jack mumbled softly. The quite statement received a strong punch to the jaw. "Ooow!" he griped, rubbing at the place where he had been hit.

Negaduck didn't even bother to acknowledge him this time.

Reggie cocked an eyebrow at the display; he wasn't quite sure how such a short man commanded so much respect, but it was obvious that the other bird wanted to get this over with as quickly as he did. "So can I play now or what?" Reggie questioned as he exhaled his latest lung-full of smoke.

"You'd better before I maim you," Negaduck snarled.

Reggie swallowed harshly, trying his best to keep the telltale symbol of his growing nerves discrete as he prepared to play. He pulled the bass from his back, flipping it around and connecting the provided amp shakily to the sleek blue guitar. He blew a puff of smoke at his bangs to remove some from his face as his fingers began to move along the strings. The tune was oddly thick as though the cords were resisting the rapid pace of his well-trained appendages; it was an unusual tone but hardly an unpleasant one. Negaduck had to admit that the other man was actually a lot better than he had anticipated, and just a glance at the slender, slightly malnourished duck told him that he might just be exactly what he needed. He wasn't nearly interesting enough but that was easily remedied. A glance to the discarded list of failed interviews combined with another throb of his migraine convinced him to take what he could get. He would know soon enough if he was wasting his time or not.

"Alright loser, I'm gonna stop you right there," Negaduck interrupted, putting up a hand in a signal to stop as he waited for the bassist's eyes to focus on him again. 

Reggie nestled his cigarette between his now free fingers and tried not to cringe as the perturbed mallard stared him down. 

Negaduck sat back in his chair, regarding the other duck's blank look with squinted eyes as he pondered his course of action. "Why do you want this gig?" he finally asked.

"Money." Was the simple reply.

"That's it?" Elmo interjected, "None of that 'I want my name in lights' bullshit?"

"No."

"Mmm…" Negaduck muttered, "Well here's the deal  _Reginald,_  I have seen literally hundreds of talentless assholes, and since you are the only loser so far that has not made me want to devour my own soul... I'm gonna give you the job."

"Heeey, don't we get an opinion on this?" Jack complained.

In his defense he only flinched slightly when Negaduck turned back towards him.

"He does kinda have a point," Elmo said on the jester's behalf, leaning over the table to stare through his heavily tinted glasses at the singer.

Negaduck narrowed his eyes at Elmo before turning over his shoulder to question the dripping dog beside him. "I suppose  _you_  have an opinion too, eh drip-face?"

Bud shrugged in response. "Don't bring me into this. He's good enough for me."

"Well, I think he's a douche," Jack huffed, not hesitating to voice his opinion.

Reggie glared slightly at the comment, but he remained silent as he waited for the band to determine his fate.

"I've got something that will fix him. Besides I don't really give a fuck what you think," Negaduck retorted.

"Well what about Mo?" Jack said, turning to the rodent at his right in search of some form of support.

Elmo was plucking at his guitar once again, absently playing out one of their newest songs. The metal strings rattled without the amp but the tune was still recognizable. "Wha?" he questioned when he finally noticed he was suddenly the attention of the entire room.

"You have no fucking idea what we're talking about anymore do you?" Jack asked dolefully.

"We were talking about something?" Elmo questioned, laughing slightly as he returned to his strumming.

Negaduck blinked irately at the pair.  _Why am I CONSTANTLY surrounded by idiots?_ "Looks like you're hired douchebag," he said as he returned his attention to the man in front of them. "But only on one condition."

Reggie shifted his head slightly to the side, raising a distrusting brow at the group. "Like what?" he questioned suspiciously.

The menacing mallard grinned for the first time since the interviews had started. "We gotta metal you up some boy."

* * *

Oh gee, I wonder what they will do to him.

Well there you have it, chapter 1! Just to reiterate, these are not supposed to be the canon characters. They are counterparts of my own design so if they seem out of character at all I don't give a crap :P they're supposed to be. Also this  **will**  be slash eventually, so if you don't like get out now.

Now honk if you liked my story.

 


	2. The Hothouse

The bitter twilight was soon to give way to darkness as the growing wave of clouds began to spread across the softly lit sky of St. Canard. Within the hazy depths of the city the unfortunate inhabitants who could not afford the luxury to survive stood little chance against the heinous residents that were more characteristic of the twisted urban landscape. The metropolis had long since shunned the rules of the outside world, content to remain blissfully separated from the realm beyond by the inky bay surrounding it. Thousands of loyal fans crowded around the immense manor in the center of their glorious city. News of their idols always spread quickly and they all knew that the latest bassist had finally been chosen. The success of the selection prompted the surrounding mass into a ritual riot— their own unique form of customary celebration— as they waited for the group to produce the newest member for their inspection. Their patience would be harshly tested for the band had long since left for destinations unknown, but they would wait on as long as it took and their numbers would only fortify as the time passed.

Far from the unruly center, on the darkest edge of the city, five figures slunk through the dead wood forest— the only likeness of nature yet remaining in the poisoned land. Moments after the audition had ended and Reggie's contract was officially signed, the oddly match group had set out through the hordes into the furthest recesses of the deranged metropolis. It was a place few found reason to venture, and as the band made their way slowly through the misty woods to an end only their lord and master knew they couldn’t help but wonder what exactly his reason was. It had been at least an hour since the trek began and the group now came upon a rocky rise, offering the first decent look they had received of the expanse before them.

"What are we doing out here again?" Elmo questioned with a scratch to his head as he paused to observe the darkening landscape.

"We're gonna fix the douche Sparky," Jack answered stopping beside the rodent to use him for support as he pulled a stray twig from his red boot. "Better fix him good too," he mumbled in addition as he flicked the annoying piece of wood into the decaying trees.

"We got a new douche?"

Jack glanced at his friend, grinning wickedly. "Yes, yes we did."

"Hmm….. So why are we out here again?"

"We're going there, moron."

The deep voice from behind them drew the attention of both guitarists as Negaduck made his way towards the spot where they were currently overlooking the long dead forest. He paused only a second to breathe deeply before sliding his way down the small plateau in a remarkably smooth manner just as the trailing bassist at the back of the group caught up to them. Reggie looked out to where the other mallard had indicated, putting a hand over his eyes to shield them from the last persistent bits of dwindling sun. In the distance rose a strangely shaped structure: some forgotten dwelling of glass and bent steel. The last rays of light that pushed through the smog danced along the shining sides of the far-off building.

Reggie lifted a brow at the divulgence of information.  _What a weird destination_ , he thought skeptically.

Reggie could feel his left hand starting to quiver of its own accord; he shook the appendage slightly before reaching into his coat to produce another smoke. He seriously hoped their little field trip would end before he ran out of cigarettes.

As though mimicking his thoughts, Jack groaned in annoyance. "Why do we have to do this _nooow_?" he whined, trudging down the rise they had been perched upon to follow the mallard currently hacking his way through the dead foliage just for the fun of it.

"Because a severe storm is on the way shit-for-brains," Negaduck replied without pausing his slashing. "And we're gonna need a lot of juice."

Elmo's ears shot upright at the notion, flicking back and forth in an attempt to locate the direction of the building precipitation. "You mean it's gonna RAIN?!" he gasped, pulling his hands to his chest and jumping behind Jack as though he would shield him from the impending moisture.

"What kind of thunderstorm doesn't have any fucking rain?!" Negaduck spat over his shoulder.

The growing force of clouds chose that moment to let forth a bang of nearing thunder as though the sky itself was eager to do the mallard's bidding. The gentle light of the waning sun was quickly extinguished by the gathering storm clouds, leaving little illumination to guide the group through the dark forest.

"Well there's your storm boss," Bud said as he flowed lazily through the lifeless trees.

Reggie blinked curiously at the shifting puddle, blue eyes following his graceful movements as he weaved through the labyrinth of dead plants. There was something strangely captivating about the way he moved around: so effortless and oddly elegant. A small sizzle brought Reggie’s gaze to the shining tip of his cigarette. A second sizzle left the bright orange bud useless to its owner causing him to scowl at the sky as it began to let forth more rain. The absently wandering drummer was soon at Reggie’s side, looking up into the darkness with him.

"Going to be a good one," Bud said distantly, a grin snaking across his watery features. He glanced perceptively at the cringing rodent a few feet ahead of them, putting a dripping arm out to stop Reggie as the other man went to move forward. " _Might_  wanna wait a minute," he said softly.

Reggie cast an aggravated glare at him, but before he could say anything the promised severity of the storm made its appearance. The entire quintet was soon soaked, the resulting downpour causing Elmo's knees to buckle beneath him. His collision with the already drenched ground sent out a vicious shock of electricity into the surrounding area as he convulsed. Reggie shuddered more from the screech let out by the other man than the slight jolt that was delivered through his poorly insulated shoes, glancing to the dog beside him in search of some kind of indication that such an occurrence was normal. Blue eyes widened at what he saw instead. Bud's head shook slightly as the residual voltage made its way through his liquid body, sending shining sparks towards the tips of his watery locks and making Reggie stare rather uncouthly at the beauty of the display. He quickly snapped his head away again when Bud’s gaze shifted in his direction, trying not to flush at how stupidly ineffective the attempt to show he had not been staring really was. It was very hard to ignore mocking smirk that Bud was giving him behind his back.

Negaduck cackled as Elmo's spasms finally stopped and the rodent groaned miserably. "That never gets old," he snorted.

The still sparking guitarist flipped the duck off halfheartedly as Jack helped him stand on shaky legs.

"This happen often?" Reggie questioned.

"Meh," Bud replied with a shrug, "Only when we happen get stuck in the rain. Or he collides with me… or Negs douses him just for the fun of it… Actually, now that you mention it, it does kinda happen a lot," he laughed, slopping his way after the others.

A quizzical expression was the canine's only answer as he slipped into the cold night, Reggie shaking his head at the departing dog. "Christ I need a smoke," he muttered softly to himself.

Reggie shivered at the assault of the frigid night air, his slender frame doing a poor job of protecting him from the cold. The long black coat that covered his body was heavy with the water it had absorbed causing it to drag behind him and cling uncomfortably to his thin frame. The garment was quickly making the already irritating trek through the decrepit forest even harder, sufficiently irritating Reggie with its sopping threads. He shook his unruly mess of hair in a vain attempt to rid himself of some of the excessive liquid. A sharp zap to his right brought his focus momentarily to the unhappy rat nearby. Reggie couldn't help but feel somewhat sorry for Elmo; After all, he did look rather pathetic. Through the shadows, Reggie could see him muttering to himself, arms wrapped around his bare torso for some semblance of the warmth that his precocious voltage normally provided.

"Severe thunderstorm my ass. A little lightning would be nice!" Elmo yelled, shaking a fist at the murky sky.

As though the clouds could hear his turmoil a glistening bolt split the sky, spreading its blinding light across the grey clouds.

"Finally!" Elmo cried, throwing his arms into the air excitedly and running off into the dead trees.

A thoroughly confused Reggie swept his bangs back to try and spot where the rat had run off to. "Where the hell is he going?" he asked to no one in particular.

"Oh, the highest point in the near vicinity I imagine," Bud answered matter-of-factly moving sinuously to stand beside the shivering mallard. "He's basically a human lightning rod ya know."

Reggie turned to the dog beside him cocking an eyebrow at the answer. "So, he's  _trying_  to get struck by lightning?"

"Comon you beautiful black abyss you! Gimme your best shot!"

"Well guess that answers that," Reggie muttered, ignoring any answer Bud may have offered.

As the bolts grew in power and quantity, they slipped across the turbulent sky like electric appendages reaching for the rodent atop one of the more massive trees. Elmo gripped the precarious perch tightly in gloved hands, slender tail cast out behind him to help keep his balance. The massive strike that hit him split the unfortunate hardwood, illuminating his fur with delicate bits of lightning and filling his body with a nutrient as precious to the rat's survival as any sustenance. The resulting force of the impact threw Elmo from the now obliterated branches leaving him in a sparking, near-orgasmic heap on the ground. The disbelief was clearly evident on Reggie's face. Rumors of the rat's electrical obsession did not do him justice.

"Ooooh, yeah… that's the stuff," Elmo moaned, grinning stupidly as he lifted his pleasantly twitching body into a sitting position. He didn't even care that his still waterlogged surroundings were already stealing his current away again.

"Damn baby, you hot," Jack said as he put a finger to the rodent's shoulder, giggling as it sizzled.

Elmo's mumbled incoherently in response as he was lifted back to his feet.

Jack slipped his hand along Elmo’s chest, relishing in the way the sparks danced along his fingers as he twined them in the drenched fur. "Have I ever told you how sexy you are when you're sopping wet and  _siiinged_?" he purred, wrapping one arm around Elmo’s slender waist to keep his shuddering, unsteady friend upright while the other twirled the soft tail between his fingers.

Reggie was almost tempted to laugh at the display, but the tentative show of amusement was exhibited only by the small twitch at the edge of his bill. "So they really are…" he hesitated turning to Bud as he considered the information he had gathered only hours earlier, "You know," he finished, resisting the urge to give any relationship between the two a set title.

Bud glanced at the duck beside him before laughing heartily at the question. "Well, let's put it this way," he answered, "They're just as likely to fight as fuck. But if you're referring to certain rumors… well, I think the answer to that is pretty obvious," he finished with a grin.

Reggie turned towards the other man momentarily before looking back at the stumbling, embracing duo. "Yeah. I suppose so."

"Hurry up assholes! We're almost there," Negaduck called, his tone clearly stating that he was already tired of waiting for them to catch up.

The statement dredged up nerves Reggie had been desperately trying to ignore. He had been attempting to convince himself since his audition had ended that he wasn't concerned about what they were planning to do to him, but as they neared the mysterious destination Reggie began to shake from more than just the cold. He ground his teeth angrily, crossing his arms over his chest in an attempt to force some of the trembling to stop. Reggie jolted at the sudden sweep of a wet limb on his shoulder, turning with a slight growl to confront the source of the uninvited contact. The canine was hardly visible through the bleak rain and darkness, but Reggie could still make out the soft grin the other man was giving him. He was surprised to find that Bud's temperature was comfortably tepid compared to the bitter precipitation. The soothing warmth made him completely forget his original intent to remove the offending appendage; he hated to admit it, even to himself, but the gentle touch had definitely eased some of his shuddering.

"Well at least someone's in their element," Reggie griped feebly, cursing internally at his chattering teeth. He could swear he heard the dog chuckle in response, but it was nearly impossible to tell for sure due to the overwhelming sound of the rain around them.

"You don't have to worry you know," Bud said, removing his hand slowly from Reggie's already wet shoulder. "Negs is nuts but he won't let you die."

"Who said I was worried?!" Reggie snapped defensively.

This time he was sure the drummer laughed at him.

Reggie narrowed his eyes at the chuckling dog, clenching his teeth angrily. "Something funny,  _Bud_?" he growled.

"Don't be a pussy Reggie. They had to metal me up too," Bud replied with a wink.

The comment only served to make the bassist more uneasy.  _If they did that to him, what are they going to do to me?_ He forced the thought from his head as he moved to follow the departing drummer.  _Doesn't really matter anyway._

Despite his troubled thoughts Reggie's feet continued to carry him after the others, moving him relentlessly towards his fate. As they neared the dilapidated building, Reggie could just barely make it out thanks to the random flashes of lightning and the dim glow from the city at their backs. Now that they were closer he could recognize it clearly as a worn out greenhouse: an abandoned homage to times long past. Negaduck was the first to reach the building's towering doors, looking to the top of the structure as he paused to be sure the others had caught up. The lightning crash that lit the massive doors of the greenhouse spread the mallard's shadow menacingly across the crystalline surface, his red eyes casting a slight glow against the glass. He didn't even have to open the doors of the neglected hothouse, the substantial amount of missing glass panels making it possible to slip inside without trying to force the rusted hinges to grant them admittance. Elmo was more than happy to bolt through one of the open spaces, not even waiting for the singer to fully enter before freeing himself from the unforgiving rain. Jack summersaulted giddily into the hole the rat had disappeared through, following right behind his playmate much to Elmo’s disapproval. Bud snorted in amusement as he moved towards the building, laughing wetly at the resulting grunt and disapproving gripes let out by Elmo as the larger man landed on top of him. Reggie paid little attention to the exchange as he gazed up at the surprisingly tall structure. If he didn't know better he would swear that the building was staring him down or perhaps just beckoning softly for him.

"While I'm still young, Bushroot!" Negaduck called impatiently from inside the structure.

Reggie shook his head at the command, the gruff yells effectively pulling him from his hypnotized state. He stared through the dark gap in front of him, hesitating a moment before bending to slide his lanky frame through the opening. None of his new band mates were evident through the darkness and only the quiet sounds of their voices gave any clue to where they were. Muffled swears came from the shadows in the far corner in the room where Negaduck was attempting to get the florescent lights overhead to function.

"Get over here and make these fucking lights work, Sparks!" Negaduck yelled, kicking at some unseen object in his frustration.

"Heh, sure I'd love to boss, but uh… where the hell are ya?" Elmo questioned.

"Morons. I'm surrounded by morons," Negaduck muttered quietly, rubbing between his eyes. "Just take your damn glasses off!"

"Oh _yeeah_. Heh."

The removal of the shades gave away the rat's position in the most unexpected of manners as two shining circles of pale blue brilliance were revealed from behind dark shades. Reggie had to look twice to be sure of what he was seeing as he watched the electrical orbs make their way across the building.  _So he sees in the dark too huh? Damn rat's just full of surprises._

A loud bang sounded into the greenhouse as Elmo collided with some unfortunate piece of equipment, a soft grunt following in response. Several more crashes and mumbled oddities later the row of lights overhead flickered to life. The resulting brightness of the florescent bulbs caused Reggie to squint his eyes against the assault. As he adjusted to the new level of illumination, he took a moment to take in his surroundings. The entire space was littered with various scientific instruments and gardening supplies all decrepit and degraded from years of neglect. The vast variety of flora had long since passed from the living world, the passage of time leaving them as mere husks of what they once were. Far above the withered foliage the storm was still raging, the heavy moisture raining steadily through the large opening in the slanted roof. Among the many dusty and rusted objects, only one fixture really stood out. Just beneath the opening in the ceiling was what appeared to be some type of surgical table. Connected to the ominous slab was a massive machine: a dirt-covered device of mysterious intent. Reggie really didn't like how his new job was starting out.

With the aid of the light, Reggie could once again observe the others. In the far corner the still grumbling singer was poking through a rather impressive electrical box slicing wires with his large knife and reconnecting them in different patterns. Beside him Elmo shook his body in a way much akin to a dog trying to dry itself, giving his tail a final flick to remove some of the water clinging to the tip of the delicate appendage before turning to help Negaduck with the rewiring. Reggie couldn't help but snort slightly at how much faster Elmo accomplished it. Negaduck didn't seem too concerned; he simply turned away from the case allowing the other to continue alone as he rifled through a nearby container. The brief search produced several hefty electrical cords which he threw unceremoniously onto the dirt before returning wordlessly to the preoccupied guitarist so that he could begin connecting the wires to those already hanging from Elmo's torso. There was a familiarity about the action leading Reggie to believe this was not the first depraved device that he had used the rat to power.

"Are you done yet?" Negaduck growled as he finished connecting the cables to the oblivious rodent.

"Uh… done with what?"

"The wires dumbass!"

"Oh! Heh, yeah totally."

"Good. Now get up there and get me some juice," Negaduck commanded as he pushed the wire-clad rat towards the ladder that scaled the side of the mysterious machine.

Elmo's pitiful groan attested to how badly he wanted to be back in the rain, but he didn't dare argue. "When I get home, I'm plugging into my favorite outlet and I ain't movin' until I combust from electrical overload," he muttered as he ascended the precarious rungs, flinching occasionally at the drops of moisture that kept hitting him.

Reggie moved further into the room, watching Elmo as he moved towards the inky sky. Below the voltage junkie, Negaduck continued to fiddle with various things on the machine, giving it a final kick to make it run. As the impressive mechanism whirled to life, a beautiful display of lights spread themselves across its front. He grinned in satisfaction at the minor victory, glancing up to be sure Elmo was in position.

Negaduck’s grin only grew in girth and gratification at the sight of the shaking, miserable rat gripping the base of the roof's tarnished grounding rod. "You ready up there, Sparky?" he called amusedly at the shuddering rodent.

"This sucks serious balls, boss!" Elmo replied grouchily.

"Stop being a bitch volt-breath! I shouldn't even  _have_  to ask you to get struck by lightning."

"Yeah… that part will be pretty cool."

Negaduck's brow twitched in annoyance as a sharp throb to his temple reminded him that time was of the essence. "Let's just get this over with," he snarled, his previously decent mood already diminishing.

Negaduck snapped his fingers curtly at the nearby drummer who obediently slipped behind Reggie in response. The gawking mallard hadn't moved more than a few inches towards the table before he felt Bud grip his coat, pushing his shoulder forward with his free hand so that the garment was removed smoothly as the Reggie’s footing faltered. A sour frown settled on Reggie’s face as he found himself clad only in his black pants and worn out boots, but before he could turn to confront the dripping menace, the other man's figure twisted around him so that he could grin smugly at the perturbed duck as he backed towards the setup in front of them. Reggie eyed his trench coat nervously as Bud draped it over a nearby wheel barrel, barely aware of his own uncomfortable shifting as he forced his eyes over to the metal tabletop; he felt horribly exposed without the false sense of safety that his coat normally provided. He put his hands habitually to his chest, searching in vain for his precious cigarettes. A low growl sounded in response to the missing box. If he didn't get to smoke soon there were going to be some serious problems. A confused brow lifted at the sudden heavy breathing beside him. Reggie narrowed his eyes irately, shifting his gaze over to the grinning mallard currently huffing in his ear.

Jack's smile widened to impressive proportions when he gained the other's attention. "Ready to get fucked up  _Reeegie_?" he asked playfully.

"Uhh.."

"Ahh, that's a yes!" Jack interrupted, grabbing Reggie by both arms and pushing him crudely onto the table.

Reggie gasped harshly as the wind was pushed from his lungs, but before he could even fully register what was going on, both his arms and legs had been shackled to the table by Negaduck and Bud leaving him immobile and thoroughly displeased. Reggie glared furiously at the drummer currently locking his wrists to the cold table. Bud merely smiled in return, his cool hands leaving wet trails down the mallard's shaking fists.

"Is this really necessary?" Reggie questioned angrily through his clenched teeth.

"Yes," Negaduck replied curtly as he pulled a menacing-looking attachment towards the nervous bassist.

Without warning he snapped the shackle over the other duck's bicep, twisting a bolt at the base to secure the ring. Reggie hissed at the pain the metallic cuff caused as it was attached to his upper arm. Dozens of long metal spines tore into his muscles, forcing an eerie coldness into his now bleeding skin. He shot a scowl briefly at Negaduck, hiding his distress behind the cold stare. His chest began to rise and fall more irregularly as the final preparations were finished. The shallow breathing was hardly notable to those not looking for it, but Bud saw it very clearly. He slipped his fingers subtly across the Reggie's shuddering arm, smirking at the way it soothed the other man without him even noticing. A sharp crash of lightning just above the condemned conservatory brought liquid eyes to focus on the currently glowing rat on the roof. The massive strength of the bolt that struck him forced every hair on Elmo's body to stand erect as the electricity leapt along his moist fur. Bud backed away from Reggie's side as the current began to pour through the many wires, his face falling into a blank mask as he watched the electricity flow into the duck on the table. He was suddenly very confused by his own emotions.

All Reggie would recall from the experience was pain: a merciless agony that racked his whole body, boiling inside him and festering like a terrible cancer. His screams blocked out all but the crackle of voltage pouring from the euphoric rodent hanging above him. The few moments that it took to complete the process felt like an eternity to the tortured mallard; it was as though time itself was being forced to extend infinitely just to torment him. All at once, more abruptly than they had started, the screams grew quiet. Blue eyes stared and bill parted in silent cries as Reggie's back arched off the table calling notice to his already prominent ribs. As the current ebbed away, his body laid itself lifelessly against the hard surface beneath him. Heavy lids slid themselves over drained blue eyes, hiding the world from Reggie's fatigued mind. It didn't hurt so much anymore. It felt like a soothing burn, a gentle laceration: a contradiction of feeling that the exhausted duck could hardly understand. Within moments consciousness was fully stolen from Reggie, leaving him unresponsive on the cold slab. Elmo had long since fallen through the open roof and into Jack's outstretched arms. The collision left the two entwined on the floor, the wattage coming from Elmo sparking against the metal bells at the end of the jester's hat. Jack giggled at his flickering, smirking friend, falling back against the floor to allow his fellow guitarist to lie comfortably on top of him.

Elmo grinned contently at the pleasing warmth surging through his body. "Sweeet," he mumbled.

Negaduck looked triumphantly at the smoking machinery, smoothing his hand through the feathers on his head before killing the now barely operating device so Elmo could be disconnected from it. "Well, now that that shit's finally over, I'm gonna go pass the  _fuck_  out," he said as he turned towards the opening that would lead him back into the dark woods. "Get the bassist drip-face," he added over his shoulder as he slipped from the greenhouse; he obviously had no intention of waiting for any of them.

"Nooot faaiir," Elmo whined as Jack pulled his worn-out body off the floor. His legs shook uncontrollably as he was forced to his feet. Without the other man’s support he would have little chance of going anywhere.

Jack glanced between the rain outside and the quivering rodent in his arms considering his options. "Hmm," he hummed turning to the drummer who was currently releasing Reggie from his bonds. "We're gonna hang back Buddy boy. I think Mo's gonna blow a fuse if he ends soggy again anytime soon," he said lowering Elmo back to the ground.

"Whatever," Bud replied pulling Reggie into his wet arms after covering him hastily with his treasured coat.

Bud didn't care much what the others did at that point. He suddenly felt rather peculiar and there was nothing more he wanted at that moment than to leave the broken-down building and get home so he could drown the unwanted emotions in his favorite beverage. As he stepped back into the night he could see that the rain was already beginning to ease back, leaving little more than a light mist to fall upon the surrounding countryside. The icy air was oddly calming to Bud. He seemed to need the long solitude that the journey back provided. He was starting to question things, things he'd never questioned before, and having to actually carry Reggie back only served to make things worse. Bud glanced at the emaciated duck in his arms, unable to keep himself from investigating the other man’s condition. Beads of sweat melded with the drops of rain soaking into Reggie's pale plumage as his labored breaths were stolen by the cold night. The blood still pouring from his laceration dripped inaudibly to the ground leaving a red trail behind them.

"You really are an idiot you know," Bud muttered, eyeing the wound on Reggie's arm. "You shoulda just stayed where you were."

Bud did his best to ignore the sleeping mallard for the rest of the trip, more content to deal with his troubling thoughts. When he finally arrived back within the paved streets he was accustomed to he was greeted by the glimmering of dozens of celebratory fires and the jubilant cries of their still partying fans. He was relieved to find their usual limo waiting for him. Negaduck must have already made it back otherwise it wouldn't be there; he was obviously determined to keep Reggie hidden for the time being. Bud was grateful for the stillness of the ride home, his strangely foul mood eased slightly by the seclusion. At least the trip was short, impeded only by the loyal supporters still crowding the streets. Bud sighed as the elaborate vehicle finally made its way into one of the many lower-level entryways of the towering building.

The familiarity of home left Bud feeling uncharacteristically tired. His watery legs felt horribly heavy as he carried Reggie to the room traditionally set aside to house their transitory bassists. The darkness shielded most of the room from sight, but all he was interested in was the large bed only a few feet away. As he slipped the frail body into the plush mattress, Bud couldn't resist the urge to study the duck for a moment. It would be interesting to see what the other man would be when he woke. The thought that this was likely the last time Bud would see the mallard for what he really was seemed to urge him to memorize every detail of what he used to be. The cooling, churning liquid of the curious drummer stretched itself out so that Bud could hold his dripping face over the sleeping bird as he studied him. He snorted softly, pulling his body back as he grabbed the discarded trench coat from the floor. Bud slid silently across the room where he deposited the drenched garment on a dresser near the door, and after a final glance to the slumbering mallard, he slipped silently out the door leaving only a shimmering trail of water as proof that he had ever been there at all.

From down the shaded hallway, red eyes followed the dripping dog as he flowed through the dark corridor. "Have a good sleep Reginald," Negaduck whispered as he watched Bud leave the room. "It'll be the last peaceful one you ever get."

 


	3. The Mutant

The first rays of dawn fought desperately against the smog surrounding the perpetually shrouded city, clawing their way into the still darkened suite where the Fearsome Five’s most recent addition still slept. In the dim room Reggie stirred as the sunlight stroked against his face and coaxed him to consciousness. His eyes were pale with exhaustion, straining against the light to take in his surroundings as he lifted himself heavily from the comfort of the oversized bed and groaned at the stiffness in his body. Reggie put a hand to the wound on his arm as a sting of pain reminded him of its presence, stiff fingers picking absently at the dried blood encrusting the feathers around the injury as he continued to gripe softly to himself. It sure didn’t seem like he had just slept for fourteen hours straight. Every inch of his body felt as though the energy had been forcibly extracted from it: like he might die from sheer exhaustion. Only the pale morning light filtering through the rips in the dark curtains offered any form of solace. If only Reggie had noticed that the scattered rays were the only thing that made him feel even remotely better.

"Good morning sleeping beauty."

Even as Reggie turned to the voice beside him, his movements were sluggish. Half-lidded eyes focused slowly on the dog sitting smugly in the chair by the far wall. "Tell me you haven't been watching me all night," he grumbled, his horse voice barely above a whisper.

"Heh, don't flatter yourself Reggie. I was instructed to check on your... condition," Bud replied.

"And?"

Bud shrugged indifferently. “Well, you still look pretty normal to me.”

“Hate to shatter your perception of reality there Bud, but I’ve never exactly been _normal_.”

“You’re kidding, right? Have you _seen_ who I live with? You’re downright average compared to what I’m accustomed to.”

“Yeah, ok,” Reggie muttered, rubbing his hands along his weary eyes, “But I’m sure as hell not used to it.”

Bud tipped his head quizzically at the drowsy duck, wondering if he should even bother to question the statement at that point. “So, how do ya feel?” he asked, deciding against any unnecessary inquiry.

“Still pretty fucked up… I need a smoke.”

“Hmm, funny you should mention that since I took the liberty of obtaining some cigarettes for you. I couldn’t tell what your brand was,” Bud answered, lifting himself lazily from the now damp chair he had been resting in.

“That’s probably because I roll my own. Never exactly had the funds to finance anything else before,” Reggie answered, moving slowly to hang his legs over the side of the large mattress.

Bud flowed to the plastic bag sitting on the dresser where Reggie’s coat still resided, chucking one of the cellophane protected boxes onto the bed once he had retrieved it. For some reason he couldn’t stop his eyes from flicking down to the other man’s now visible tail feathers. He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t take his eyes off the white plumage; it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen enough tail in his life.

The soft thud of the pack hitting the black sheets prompted Reggie’s attention to the small box. Even the simple movement of looking over his shoulder seemed difficult for the worn-out duck, and Bud couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for him. Reggie grabbed the pack, studying it for a moment before pulling the tab that removed the clear casing. The neat rows of white sticks were a strangely fascinating sight for him. Brand-name cigarettes had almost always been a luxury he couldn’t afford. His movements were almost apprehensive as he pulled one of the perfect tubes from the pack and placed it in his mouth. It felt somewhat wrong, but Reggie needed a smoke so badly he could care less at the moment. Feathered hands searched his chest for the lighter he was accustomed to having within reach, his eyes widening as his fingers met his bare torso. He had to force the blush away at the realization that he had completely forgotten the coat had been removed.

“Uh,” Reggie mumbled over his shoulder, “Wanna throw me my lighter there Bud?”

The drummer chuckled slightly at the awkward way Reggie was shifting; it was quickly becoming obvious how fragile the other man’s façade of indifference really was. Bud reached back to the table, fishing in the trench coat’s inner pocket for the requested item. He considered just throwing the whole garment to Reggie as it was obviously a source of comfort, but he felt the need to observe the fidgety bird without it for just awhile longer.  Once his search had produced the cheap, yellow lighter, he tossed it gently onto the bed just within Reggie’s reach. Bud was pretty sure the action received a mumbled a thank you, but he could hardly tell with the soft way it was spoken. Reggie wasted little time in lighting one of the cigarettes taking a long drag from it before pulling it from his beak and raising an inquisitive brow at the stick.

Bud felt a sudden twinge of frustration that the bird might be displeased with his tobacco selection. “Something _wrong_?” he questioned.

Reggie blinked curiously at the edge of annoyance in Bud’s tone. “No. I’m just…” he trailed off, placing the cigarette in his mouth once again and inhaling deeply from it so he could hold the smoke in his lungs for a moment before letting it billow slowly from his beak. “Not used to filters,” he finally finished.

Bud lifted a brow at the unexpected answer; he suddenly felt stupid for feeling put-off by Reggie’s hesitation. He laughed slightly at his own aberrant sensitivity, moving to the other side of the bed so that he could pull the tattered curtains apart and let in the orange morning light. Reggie squinted at the sudden increase in illumination, shuddering at the rays that contacted his body. _Damn that sun feels good,_ he thought curiously.

“Well you can get whatever you want later,” Bud said as he pulled the drapes away from the large window. “You’ll certainly have the funds for it now.”

Reggie glanced at the dog’s watery back briefly before pulling the smoldering stick quickly from his mouth and ripping the filter from the end. He took another hit from the altered cigarette, grinning ever so slightly at the delectable harshness of the unfiltered vapor. _That’s more like it,_ he thought as the smoke wafted through his sinuses.

“I doubt Negs will really let you go anywhere yet, but you can always just have some..one…” the sentence trailed off as Bud turned back towards his newest band mate, dark eyes widening as he regarded the duck in front of him.

Reggie scowled at the sudden change in attitude. “What?” he grumbled.

“You’re, uh… lookin’ a little green there Reg,” Bud replied with an awkward tug to his collar.

“No shit! I told you I still feel a little fucked up.”

“No, I mean you’re _literally_ green.”

“ _What_?” Reggie said disbelievingly, raising himself up so he could make his way to the large mirror nearby. The still burning cigarette fell to the floor as Reggie’s bill parted in shock at the pale emerald tint that had stained his plumage. He slid his fingers slowly across his feathered face as though to be sure they were actually attached to him. After a moment of studying his own reflection in disbelief, he shifted his eyes over to the image of the stunned dog behind him. “Get out,” he whispered softly.

“Look Reggie, I don’t think—”

“Just get out!” Reggie yelled, dropping his hands to grip angrily at the table in front of him as he glared at Bud’s reflection.

Bud didn’t reply; he simply regarded the angry bassist for a moment before slipping silently from the room and closing the door behind him. Reggie sighed heavily once he was alone, looking back to the mirror to scowl at his own face. A small hint of color brought his gaze the black nest he called his hair, immediately replacing his displeased expression with one of confusion. Among the many raven strands, a small patch of abnormal color stuck through—silken invaders that almost seemed to shine against the deep black of his hair.

“What the hell?” Reggie questioned quietly as he reached up to grasp the soft purple filaments.

He winced slightly at the twinge of pain brought on by yanking at the oddities. _Great,_ he thought to himself, _this shit’s attached._ Reggie itched angrily at the black hair surrounding the intruding follicles stopping only when he felt the strands loosen. His eyes widened, a dread-filled look meeting his gaze in the mirror as he pulled a clump of his thick mane from his head.

The resulting yell brought Bud back into the room without as much as a courtesy knock. “What the hell Reggie? Why’d you—whoa… what happened to your _hair_?” the now snickering puddle questioned as he took in the other man’s altered appearance.

Reggie was standing before the large mirror holding hunks of his once abundant locks. In their place, small clumps of bright purple strands were growing sporadically. “What happened?! It’s fucking falling out is what happened!” he yelled furiously.

“I can see that,” Bud muttered, looking the frantic duck over sympathetically. “You… feeling ok?” he finished awkwardly.

The dumbfounded expression he gained in response told him that wasn’t what Reggie wanted to hear. “I look like a seasick circus performer with a balding problem! How the hell do you think I feel?!” he yelled, yanking more chunks of his hair out harshly in his rage.

Bud had to hold back a chuckle at the comical picture the mallard painted. His mood became more serious as he noticed that Reggie’s hair wasn’t the only thing that was falling out. All over his body, patches of white feathers had been stripped away revealing the skin beneath for his inspection. The flesh was a sickly shade of green: an odd change from Reggie’s normally pigment-lacking appearance. Bud swallowed around the ill feeling in his wet throat; if anyone knew what it was like to experience such a drastic change, it was him. He moved toward the panicked duck gently so as not to startle him into stepping away. A soft smile forced itself onto his dripping features in a subconscious attempt at comfort as he slipped an arm around Reggie’s angrily shaking shoulders.

“No worries Reg. I’m sure Negaduck wouldn’t let you stay lookin’ like this. We’ll go get coffee.. and booze. Those make everything better,” Bud said, steering the other man towards the door once the disgruntled bird had collected his new pack of cigarettes.

Reggie grabbed his trench coat as they exited the room, pulling himself roughly from the watery embrace to slip into the security it provided. He could feel more of the deteriorating feathers being pulled out by the action and was unable to help the slight wince that crossed his face at the feeling.

The trip to the kitchen was silent. Reggie distracted himself from the uncomfortable atmosphere by observing the house as they moved to the lower level. The shady halls were much like the rest of the home: elaborate and littered with sinister designs all leading the way towards the massive common room and the spaces beyond. The kitchen itself was quite large, but rather unassuming compared to the rest of the manor that Reggie had so far seen. Upon entering they could see that the lead singer was already awake, ear pressed to his cell phone as he listened to an obviously irritating caller.

Negaduck rubbed between his eyes as he listened, growing more pissed off by the minute. “Look just get it done. And DON’T fucking call me again unless the world as we know it is about to end. YOU GOT THAT?!” he yelled, ending the call by smashing the defenseless phone on the counter where it shattered beneath the furious impact. Negaduck cocked a brow at the entrance of the others, looking over Reggie’s ridiculous appearance with a gruff laugh and a slight grin. “What the fuck happened to you?”

“Apparently I have a balding problem,” Reggie muttered, ripping another filter from one of his new cigarettes before lighting it.

“Yeah well, you’d better hope it gets better. Cause you look like a fuckin’ joke right now.”

Reggie snarled at the infuriating bird, the vulgar curses sounding loudly in his head despite the fact that his bill was too afraid to speak them.

The subtly furious sounds prompted Bud to interfere before one of those swears slipped free and infuriated Negaduck unnecessarily. “Why don’t we just go get some fresh air Reg,” he said.

Reggie immediately jumped as the drummer placed an arm to his back, jerking harshly away from the touch. Bud couldn’t help but feel a bit put-off by the action.

“Whatever,” Reggie muttered, wrapping his arms around himself tightly as he moved toward the large balcony that came off of the kitchen.

Negaduck narrowed his eyes at the pair; something told him he needed to keep an eye on the most recent addition to their little “family.” He followed silently behind them, giving a warning look when the drummer shot him a glance over his shoulder. Bud turned away quickly, unwilling to face the threatening stare. Almost immediately upon stepping outside, Reggie felt a surge of something quite inexplicable. The strange strands of hair that had taken the place of his once abundant mane grew in an unnaturally rapid manner as the sunlight seeped into every crevice of his body. He gasped loudly, shudders running throughout his body at the unexpectedly enjoyable sensation; he'd never felt anything like it. Shaky knees gave out beneath him, bringing his slim body roughly to the ground, the trembles growing in severity as he soaked in the life-giving rays. Reggie’s bill parted in ecstasy to allow a hesitant groan forth. Had he been in his right mind he may have stopped to be embarrassed. Bud watched the practically orgasmic duck smugly, grin widening on his face as he observed the spectacle. It was certainly not what he had expected.

“Well now, isn’t that interesting,” Negaduck said quietly to himself as he approached the kneeling duck.

He gripped the black coat covering Reggie tightly, jerking it away from the quaking body so that he could observe exactly what was happening to the other man. Before his eyes, the previously subtle color that covered Reggie’s torso deepened to a brilliant green, already slim arms shrinking to unnatural proportions and once feathered fingers melded together in a painful-looking display. The few remaining patches of plumage were pushed from green skin as the change became more aggressive before ending with wooded talons forcing themselves through the feeble material of Reggie's boots. Negaduck grinned evilly, thoroughly pleased at the progression of the transformation. _Now that’s more like it,_ he thought as he dropped the trench coat to the floor. The drummer at his side supported a less enthralled expression as he watched Reggie’s tail feathers fall from his backside, leaves quickly growing in their place. Bud was going to miss that tail.

Reggie pressed his sweating forehead to the abrasive tiles covering the balcony floor, panting as the alterations finished and the trembling finally began to subside. He breathed deeply for a moment to compose himself before moving his newly strengthened frame into a sitting position. Lavender bangs were slicked against his damp face, framing blue eyes in a colorful manner that seemed ill-suited to the moody bassist. The expression that formed on Reggie’s face in response to the changes was somewhere between shock and disgust. He examined his leafy hands, forcing his face back into a neutral mask as he fumed internally at the sudden lack of fingers. _Well that’s just fuckin’ great,_ he thought angrily.

Negaduck laughed slightly as he began to roam around the mutant, taking in his new appearance thoughtfully. “Well, it’s a little colorful for my taste, but no one can say you’re not interesting now,” he said, smirking at the fruits of his latest devious deed.

“I’ll say,” Bud muttered, “You turned him into a walking salad bar.”

Negaduck shrugged as he turned to reenter the manor. “Yeah well, you don’t exactly fit in with this crowd without looking like a freak show.”

Bud could still hear the mallard snickering evilly to himself, but he ignored him in favor of observing Reggie. The shocked duck was still staring at his hands despondently, apparently oblivious the world around him. After a moment Reggie lifted his arms, moving his eyes along the thin appendages before shifting his legs out from under him to inspect the talons now protruding from his boots. He pressed his heels against the ground, easily slipping the worn, oversized shoes from his feet so that he could get a better look at the wooded toes. A sudden, very disturbing, thought struck him as he took in the sight of his bark-covered legs. He pulled the waist of his pants away from his smooth, green skin, eyes widening at the lack of a certain well-loved body part.

“Oh, no fucking way!”

Bud had to stifle a laugh at the long string of obscenities that fell from Reggie’s mouth at the unfortunate observation. He had to admit he had been none too happy about losing his own little friend—not that he hadn’t found ways to make up for the loss. He flowed behind the Reggie, slipping his hands beneath the newly mutated duck’s vine-like arms so that he could lift him to his feet.

Bud grabbed Reggie’s black coat from the ground as an afterthought as he led the still fuming mallard back into the manor. “Don’t worry Reg,” he said trying to calm him down, “You’re a plant for fuck’s sake. I’m sure you can just grow yourself some hard wood if necessary.” Bud couldn’t help but snicker slightly at his own pun, but the furious glare from the duck at his side quickly whipped the grin from his face. “Too soon?” he questioned innocently.

Reggie wrenched himself roughly away from Bud in response snatching his trench coat from the watery grip as he stormed over to the circular dining table near the large windows overlooking the city. Bud sighed slightly at the lack of humor the duck possessed. _Someone really needs to loosen that boy up,_ he thought as he moved to one of the many kitchen cabinets. He searched quickly through the cupboards to find the precious liquid that he knew could be found within their inky depths, opening the bottle immediately and chugging nearly half of it in one go. Bud shivered happily at the introduction of the intoxicating molecules into his liquid form, the dark liquor mingling with his water and lending him a slightly amber tint. He glanced across the room at the still sneering bassist now sitting at the table, his focus only shifting when Negaduck snapped his fingers at him in a gesture for the alcohol in his hand. The duck poured a generous amount of the whiskey into his otherwise plain coffee once it had been handed over, grinning in satisfaction at the mix of caffeine and intoxicant now present in the cup.

Bud looked back at Reggie suddenly curious about the change. “So, Negs,” he questioned, “One thing I don’t really get. Why a plant?”

Negaduck shrugged, taking a long drink from the whiskey bottle before answering. “Hey, there isn’t exactly a surplus of mutation devices in the near vicinity and I can’t be expected to use my genius to mutate _every_ halfway decent bassist we end up with. I just took what I could get.”

“What… exactly, did that, THING do to me?” Reggie questioned, focusing angry eyes on the pair still standing by the far counter as he waited for an answer.

“Hell if I know, don’t you listen? Not my fuckin’ machine,” Negaduck replied irately.

“Well, it sucked,” Reggie muttered lighting yet another cigarette to try and ease his foul mood.

“I’ll bet. But if Elmo and faireboy ever decide to grace us with their presence, I’m sure tonight’s activity will be more to your liking,” Negaduck replied finally handing the whiskey back to Bud. “Where the hell are those two dimwits anyway?” he grumbled as an afterthought.

“Must still be at that greenhouse,” Bud replied, pausing to drink deeply from the newly reacquired bottle. “Mo wasn’t exactly too keen on leaving last night.”

“Well they’d better get their asses back here soon,” Negaduck growled as he poured more coffee into his already empty mug.

It didn’t take long before the pair in question finally decided to rejoin their band mates. They could be heard from all the way down the hall as they made their way to the kitchen, the giggling duo entering the room with little stealth. Elmo was hanging unstably off of his snickering companion while Jack muttered stupid witticisms into his ear. It took a moment for the two guitarists to realize that the rest of the band was even present. For the first few seconds they were silent, but the reaction they finally did provided only worsened Reggie’s mood. Elmo broke out in laughter, pointing at the flowery bassist with one hand as the other gipped the bird beside him in an attempt to stay upright. Jack seemed momentarily unable to produce a reaction; he simply stared, jaw dropped and a stupid grin on his face.

“Ho-ly crap Reggie,” Jack finally said, holding his snorting, unstable friend tightly to keep him from falling over. “Lookin’gooood,” he finished with a suggestive wink.

“Well at least he’s _interesting_ now,” Elmo offered once his giggles had subsided. He stumbled away from his fellow guitarist, moving toward the long counter at the back of the kitchen.

“He certainly is,” Jack agreed, moving to stand in front of the Reggie now that he wasn’t needed to support his friend. “I mean, he still looks like a douche. But his ugly levels have certainly decreased.”

“Gee, thanks for noticing,” Reggie snarled.

A sharp zap followed the sentiment, bringing Reggie’s attention to where Elmo was currently shoving one of his many wires into an outlet. His sagging hair immediately stood on end, returning abruptly to its normally spiked state. Elmo shivered happily at the surge, moving sluggishly to sit at the table beside Reggie. His laughing resumed as he seemed to notice the freshly mutated duck once again. The green of Reggie’s face deepened at the continued degradation. He was getting very sick of being such a source of amusement to everyone.

“Alright, shut up and sit down! We got shit to discuss and we’re already behind waiting for you two assholes,” Negaduck snapped, grabbing a pile of papers from the counter.

“I can’t believe you actually slept out there,” Bud said shifting fluidly into one of the tall chairs at the long island near where the others were congregating.

“Pfft, who slept?” Jack said with a devious side-glance to his partner-in-crime.

Elmo couldn’t help but grin stupidly in response as Jack plopped himself unceremoniously into the chair beside him, resting both elbows on the table as he observed the plant duck across from them.

“What?!” Reggie growled at the other man once he could no longer stand the annoying observation.

“Reggie the veggie,” Jack said distantly, “I’m _lichen_ the new look,” he finished with a snicker.

“Heh, you shoulda seen him earlier,” Negaduck snorted as he rifled through the papers.

“You mean he was uglier than this earlier?” Jack asked a slightly disappointed look on his face. “Now I’m sad we didn’t get back in _thyme_ to see that. Are you _re-leaved_ that you’re so pretty now Reggie?” he said, twining his fingers together so he could rest his chin on them as he batted his lashes at the perturbed duck.

“Oh, shut up already… it’s not even that funny,” Reggie muttered putting his cigarette out on the metal tabletop with more force that was probably necessary.

“Actually, it is a _little_ funny,” Negaduck said. “Because it annoys you. A lot.”

“Yeah, _yew_ shouldn’t be such a sap Reggie,” Elmo added snickering nasally at his surprisingly successful play on words.

“Ooo, nice one. But careful Mo Mo, he might get a little.. hosta.”

Jack and Elmo finally broke down into a round of uncontrollable laughter at the angry green tone that spread itself across Reggie’s face.

“Alright assholes, if everyone is quite finished making stupid puns,” Negaduck snarled over the incessant giggling as he began to circle the table.

“Hey, I had more. But go on,” Jack replied, wining slightly at the hard slap that was delivered to the back of his head.

“As I was _saying_ ,” Negaduck continued harshly “If everyone is FINISHED being a moron. I think it’s time we gave those dear people outside what they’ve been waiting for.”

The smirk he gave Reggie made the duck shiver slightly. He wasn’t sure he could take much more at the moment.


	4. The Haunt

The red-hot glow of the waning sun flickered against the clear panes of the manor’s many lofty windows, mimicking the fires below with its sweltering display. In the streets, the throngs of fans were a flurry of anticipation. The masses had waited diligently for hours and they were starting to grow tired of the delay. The more the day stretched on the more their actions grew in urgency and devastation, forcing the vast metropolis into a frenzy of destructive exploits. As the morning began to wane to midday, a malevolent air hung heavy in the streets threatening to tare the city apart at its seams. Negaduck thrived off the chaos. He derived sick pleasure from the turmoil, but even he had better things to do at that point than make them wait just for the sheer amusement of it. At last the long stretch of time they had so far waited was to be rewarded.

Or so it seemed.

Within the mysterious manor, the band had already spent several excruciating hours trying to sort out their course of action for the next few months. Everything from the extensive list of bass lines that Reggie had to memorize to Jack’s bad habit of leaving his various “toys” scattered around the house had been discussed. It had gotten to the point that no one was really paying attention to what Negaduck had to say anymore, and Jack was practically to the point that bashing his head against the table was more appealing than spending another moment listening to the lead member talk. Even Reggie was glad when the other mallard finally wrapped up his little speech.

“Any questions assholes?” Negaduck grumbled.

It seemed even he had grown tired of the conversation. If the mallard barking orders at the others could be called a conversation.

“Yeah,” Jack said lifting his head from the table, “Are you done yet?” He yelped in pain as Negaduck slammed his large bill back against the metallic surface it had just risen from. “Owww, my face! My beautiful, beautiful face,” Jack whimpered, rubbing at his beak pathetically. He responded to Elmo’s resulting snickers with a vehement glare, sticking his tongue out at the rat when the chuckles didn’t stop.

“Alright, shut the fuck up already!” Negaduck growled. “It’s time to give the people what they want.” He shot a glance at Reggie, smirking slightly as he strode from the room.

The rest of the band simply stared after him for a moment, unsure what exactly was expected of them.

“Well, hurry it up you worthless freaks!” Negaduck finally yelled from down the hall.

The distant call immediately prompted a tandem reaction from the resident guitarists, Jack and Elmo sharing only a momentary glance before jumping from their respective chairs in a mad dash towards the door. Elmo’s initial lead in the impromptu race did not sit well with his companion, the immature jester latching onto his delicate tail in a childish attempt to come out ahead in their juvenile game. Delighted cackles sounded at the loud smack produced when Elmo hit the floor.

“Jack you dirty cheatin’ whore!” Elmo griped as he lifted himself swiftly from the floor to try and catch his duplicitous friend.

Reggie could hear the steel ends of Elmo’s boots clanking against the ground as he chased the mad giggles down the corridor. A disbelieving brow lifted at the spectacle. “Did I… _miss_ something?” he questioned.

Bud snorted slightly at the question from where he was currently collecting another whiskey bottle to replace his long empty one. “You have to be pretty attentive to not miss something with those two,” he said, “Gotta be careful around Jack or you’re going to end up starting a game you may not want to play. Or _know_ you’re playing for that matter.”

A noncommittal hum was the only reply he received.

Bud frowned slightly at the response. Sometimes he really wished he could hear what was going on in Reggie’s head: to see what secrets were hidden beyond that blank face. He was almost able to convince himself that if he stared hard enough he might be able to tell what kind of man lived behind those indigo eyes.

“Come on Reg,” Bud said, “We’d better get out there before the lord of all evil comes looking for you.”

“Why? So he can parade me around in front of that maniacal mass like some kinda sideshow freak?” Reggie replied, his words suddenly seeping annoyance.

Bud thought about the question for a moment, somewhat unsure how exactly he was supposed to reply. “You’ll have to face them eventually Reggie,” he pointed out, his voice quite as though he had just revealed some well-kept secret.

Reggie crossed his arms over his chest grumpily as he thought about this blunt truth. Bud suddenly wondered if he had even considered the kind of position he had put himself in when he signed his contract. The drummer shook his head at the thought; he knew damn well that there was no way Reggie could have known the true extent of what he was getting into.

Bud chuckled slightly as though the simple action would distract him from his suddenly disturbing contemplations. “Come on Reg. My water’s gonna go stagnant if I stand here much longer,” he said.

Several moments passed before Reggie finally pushed himself away from the table. Bud leaned against the door frame as the other man lit his latest cigarette earning him the attention of radiant blue eyes when Reggie noticed the dripping dog waiting for him. Bud grinned, holding out his arm in an unspoken invitation for the other mutant to exit first. As Reggie passed him he made it a point not to touch the still ornery avian again; it was tempting, but he had certainly noticed that it seemed to put the mallard extremely on edge every time he did it. Bud’s movements were markedly languid as he turned to follow Reggie down the shadowy corridor. It was just the alcohol. Or so his brain kept trying to tell him. The thought kept him from even noticing the stare that had focused on his back. The strange urge to study the dog’s movements tugged at Reggie, pulling his eyes towards the other man with a force more tangible than seemed possible. Something about the flowing grace he moved around with was oddly enchanting to Reggie, and the notion was suddenly very annoying.

Several different hallways and a set of stairs later and the dark passageway gave way to an immense central chamber. Despite the different twists and turns the journey required, the trip was surprisingly short. From the external appearance of the building Reggie had expected that the living area would be massive, but so far he had seen very little of what he knew must be contained within the home. The immense room they entered was the first truly impressive space he had seen, and it was obviously the primary congregation area. In the center of the far wall an intricate and immense fireplace took up residence. Its detailed carvings of possessed female dancers were undeniably impressive, but it was the idol behind the stunning hearth that truly took center stage. It was a towering devil figure: a statue of ancient stone that bore a knowledge in its gaze that no piece of inanimate material had any right to possess. The stare made Reggie shiver; he suddenly felt cold all over. He tore his eyes away from the disturbing display, moving his attention to the others in hopes that the action might stifle the disconcerting feeling. Nearby, Negaduck was leaning against the archway that led to the balcony outside the opulent room. He gazed almost lazily over his shoulder as he noticed that the missing members had finally entered the room. Without a word he plucked one of the many cordless microphones he had at his disposal from a nearby table before slipping through the colossal glass doors that separated them from the realm beyond. The others all gathered around the windows surrounding the doorway as their leader moved towards the balcony edge. The pace of Reggie’s breath quickened as he moved to join them. Somehow he wasn’t even sure he wanted to watch.

The high perch was barely far enough down the building for the worshipers below to see the short duck, but the current level in which they resided was the lowest that the living corridors extended. It was very rare for anyone besides Negaduck to venture any lower. The moment the red-eyed mallard stepped far enough out onto the ledge to be seen by the fans, the crowd erupted into a collective roar of adulation. Negaduck grinned evilly as he fed off their elated cries like he would the finest of delicacies, his mouth even parting slightly as though he could actually taste it on his tongue.

Negaduck put his hands out, signaling for the cheers to stop, before flipping the microphone on and bringing it to his bill so that the immense crowd could hear him. “You wanna see your new bassist?!” he roared, eliciting an even louder round of cheers from the masses below. “Well fuck you!” he spat, deep voice booming across the city. “You wanna see your bassist? Then I suggest you all be here four months from now when we release our new album.” Even from his perch several stories above the fans, his grin commanded attention. “I’ll give you ungrateful assholes a concert the likes of which you have NEVER seen before! Be there, or suffer. My. _WRATH_!” The growled conclusion to the brief speech only made the crowd scream louder as Negaduck turned away from them.

Relief flooded Reggie’s still weary body at the news that nothing more would be required from him at the moment. Though he couldn’t help but wonder how they could possibly produce an entire album in only four months.

“Well, now that that’s settled,” Negaduck said as he reentered the dark manor, “I want you all to get ready for a little trip. _We_ , are going out tonight,” he finished with a smirk, moving towards the large staircase at the back of the room.

“Yeah! Par- _tay_!!” Jack yelled giddily, half skipping, half running toward the stairs in his excitement.

“Wait… what happened?” Elmo questioned, scratching his head in confusion as he watched his friend dash from the room.

“Time to party hardy Sparky,” Bud replied.

“Heh, sweet… what are we partying for?”

Bud cocked an eye at the perpetually addlepated rodent. “Our new bassist of course,” he said softly, looking over his shoulder at the still dazed duck behind him.

Reggie glared faintly at the look Bud was giving him but received only a smug grin in response.

“ _Wha_?” Elmo questioned simply.

“Nothin’. Just go change.”

“What the hell for?! This is what I always wear.”

“Cause tonight is special asshole. Besides, you know damn well Jack isn’t gonna let you go out without looking pretty.”

“Hmmm. Go where now?”

Bud resisted the urge to roll his nonexistent eyes. “Go let Jack play dress up.”

“Uuuhh, I hate it when he makes me his personal Barbie doll,” Elmo groaned as he trudged away, suddenly almost oblivious to the fact that he had been talking to the drummer at all.

Bud chuckled slightly, shaking his head at the constantly befuddled guitarist. It continually amazed him that the rat didn’t simply overlook the need to breathe. The realization that Reggie had yet to say anything prompted his attention back to the mutant duck still standing by the balcony doors. The amused expression fell from his face as he noted the look the other man was supporting. Reggie was staring sullenly at his dark green hands, face twisted into an excess of depressive emotion. It was quite obvious that he had not yet gotten over his recent change. Bud made a noise as though to clear his throat in order to gain Reggie’s attention, but considering that he lacked a throat to clear the sound simply came out as a strangely harsh gurgle.

Reggie lifted a questioning brow at the bizarre noise. “What?” he asked.

Bud tipped his head towards the staircase in a signal for him to follow. Reggie opened his mouth as though to say something but seemed to decide against it. After a quick glance out the window at the thousands still gathered in anticipation of his first appearance, he begrudgingly trailed the departing drummer. He made it a point to intentionally stay a few steps behind Bud as he led the way down the corridor. Reggie was barely paying attention, but he managed to comprehend that they were going in the opposite direction from where they had come earlier.

Reggie couldn’t stop fiddling with the garment covering him as he walked. He had to continually tug at the coat to keep it from slipping down his overly thin arms, the defiant material finally forcing him to button it closed to keep it in place. The feeling was strange; he wasn’t used to having the fabric touching so much of his chest, but it was somehow comforting now that he lacked feathers to shield his skin. A small sigh voiced his relief once he reached his new bedroom. He slid swiftly inside, closing the door behind him quickly in hopes that it would deter Bud from deciding to bother him. Reggie leaned his back against the door, stopping for a moment to breathe deeply as he appreciated the solitude the heavily adorned chamber provided. His composure benefited very little from the brief pause, leaf-like hands trembling slightly from their place against the smooth surface behind him. Reggie shook the appendages in frustration as he pushed himself away from the thick barrier. His soft grumbles did a poor job of assuring him that lack of nicotine was the only reason they were shaking.

Reggie was almost apprehensive as he walked further into the room; he wasn’t sure it would ever feel like it actually belonged to him. His freshly lit cigarette eased his nerves only slightly as he forced himself to face his mirror once again. Reggie never did have the chance to actually look at himself before Negaduck had decided to have his little chat. Downturned eyes lifted slowly, their owner forcing them to face the mutant in the shimmering surface. That face: if Reggie hadn’t known that it was truly attached to him he wouldn’t have believed it. Only the piercing blue eyes, tinted with jaundice, lent any sense of familiarity to him. _I wonder if plant-ducks can get jaundice,_ he thought. He figured not; somehow he doubted that he even had a liver anymore. Did he even have any internal organs at all? Reggie’s purple-petaled head shook at the inane thoughts. It didn’t matter much at that point either way. Wooded talons clicked lightly on the floor as the perturbed bassist stormed away from the hideous reflection; did every place in that damned home _have_ to have the same marble floors? The thought made Reggie grumble slightly. It wasn’t really the floors that bothered him. The transformation was still eating at him. It was as though he had invaded someone else’s body, or perhaps just had his mind stolen and forcibly placed in some foreign shell, either way he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had been somehow violated. A displeased grunt slipped from Reggie’s bill as he removed his now baggy black pants. The looseness of the material was really starting to irritate him.

“I suppose I have no need for you now anyway,” Reggie muttered to the worn fabric as he dropped it to the floor.

Just down the hall, a certain liquid mongrel was caught in a similar course of futile contemplation as his fellow mutant two doors down. Bud found himself strangely glued to his bathroom mirror, watching the reflection as he swished his dripping dreadlocks back and forth absently in his inebriation. He turned the water on in the sink below the large reflective surface, dropping his hands under the cooling stream to absorb the fluid and clear his mind. The amber sheen began to slide slowly from his form, soon returning him to his normal transparent, sparkling state. Liquid lids slipped over the cerulean pools that comprised his eyes as his thoughts grew deeper. Bud couldn’t recall ever feeling quite so tired before. The glow of red that met his gaze when he finally opened his eyes again made the drummer jolt in shock. There was a fury and a warning behind the fierce stare that made Bud cringe pathetically beneath its weight. The fact that he had completely missed the singer’s entrance was very distressing.

“I do hope I don’t have to tell you to behave yourself tonight Bud,” Negaduck growled.

It took a moment for Bud to register the fact that he was referring to Reggie. The realization made his entire form stiffen as though he’d been caught doing something very wrong. He literally had to force one of his usual cockeyed grins onto his face to mask the internal anxiety caused by the statement. “Don’t I always boss?” he retorted, narrowing his eyes at the scowling duck.

“No,” Negaduck stated simply, his suspicion obviously unappeased by the comment, “Just don’t make me remind you. I wouldn’t want to have to take any… _drastic_ measures just because you’ve decided to be all sociable with this bassist,” he finished as he turned his back on the other man, leaving the dog alone with his thoughts.

Bud sighed heavily as Negaduck left, running a hand through the liquid locks on his head to try and steady his mild shaking. “Gettin’ in too deep Buddy boy,” he muttered to himself.

After one last glance at his reflection, he grabbed a pair of black leather gloves off the smooth counter, pulling them swiftly onto his hands as he followed the fuming vocalist from his room. The deep thoughts still swirling through his mind made Bud pause just outside his door, compelled to gaze down the hall at the room he knew housed the current bane of his existence. He ignored the voice that urged him to check on his new bandmate, slipping silently down the dark passageway as he endeavored to pull his attention away from the other mutant.

Within said room, the fidgeting bassist had accomplished little to ease his anxiety. Reggie’s wooden leg shook excessively from where he sat on his bed. He was sure he’d gone through at least three cigarettes in just the few minutes he had spent alone in his room, but he was so deep in thought that he was hardly counting. The orange bud at the end of his latest cylindrical victim burned brightly as he took a deep drag from it. Reggie kept telling himself it was just the devil room. He couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that the vile chamber— or rather the horrid statue residing within its walls— was out to get him. Reggie growled at the thought, putting his cigarette out roughly on the table beside the bed; he made a mental note to have someone get an ashtray in the near future. By the time Reggie finally forced his feet to carry him back into the unnerving main chamber the others had already changed and were congregating at the bottom of the stairs. Jack’s appearance was far more colorful than what Reggie had previously seen. He was covered in shades of blue and red, small accents of gold shining in the pale light. Even his hat had been swapped for one of a matching pallet complete with gilded bells. Elmo, on the other hand, had changed very little. His grey brown pants had been replaced with a similar, more pristine, pair and his boots swapped with his expensive leather set that lacked the heavy steel toes but supplemented a pleather of unnecessary buckles and straps.

The absence of a more extensive makeover seemed very perturbing to Jack. “Geez Sparky, even Bud changed for fuck’s sake,” he griped.

“He put on a pair of freakin’ gloves! Biiig change,” Elmo replied crossing his arms in a huff. There was no way he was putting on a shirt no matter how much his friend fussed over it.

Jack’s attention was quickly rerouted when he realized that Reggie had finally entered the room, an amused grin spread across his large beak at the sight of the other bird. “Hehehe, goin’ commando there Bushy?” he asked with a snicker, pointing at the other man’s lower half.

“Why wear pants when I don’t have a fucking cock anymore?” Reggie snarled around his cigarette.

“Fucking _hell_ , is bitching all you do?” Negaduck growled, “I threw Bud into a vat of _acid_ and he didn’t complain this much.”

“Yeah, well… you owe me a new penis,” Reggie muttered as the singer led the way to the oddly ominous elevator that would lead them out of the manor.

“Well at least you got them dangly things,” Elmo said, wiggling his fingers at Reggie’s stamens as he entered the lift to stand beside the displeased duck, “Those are like.. naughty plant bits, right?”

Reggie merely scowled in response. He couldn’t help but will the elevator to descend faster as though his thoughts would actually help speed things up. He really didn’t feel like being stuck in such a small place with the others for long, but he didn’t exactly have much choice when faced with the daunting height of the building. A disgusted look made its way to his features when his space was suddenly invaded by a certain grinning rhythmist.

“Heh, heh. Wait. So uh, these are like, your _balls_ then?” Jack sniggered, prodding at one of the tender spheres abrasively. The jester pouted when his hand was slapped away by Reggie. “Oooh you’re no fun,” he said in disappointment.

As the torturous box finally reached the basement level and freed the occupants from its uncomfortably cramped confines, Jack’s easily distractible nature soon offered Reggie reprieve from his unwanted attention. The alluring sway of Elmo’s tail quickly prompted the jester to leave the bassist in favor of a brief grope session which earned him a halfhearted gripe from the rodent in response. Reggie groaned in annoyance at the other duck. He really hoped he wasn’t going to have to spend too much time with the overgrown child that night. Either way he was stuck with Jack for the time being as they ventured through the twist of tunnels more commonly referred to as the parking garage. Reggie had to admit he was impressed with the extensive repertoire of vehicles stored in the underground maze, but the sight of their destination quickly silenced the thought and stopped him dead in his tracks.

“What in the holy hell is that?” Reggie asked.

The device in question was unlike any vehicle he had ever seen before. The stretched Lincoln continental had long since been transformed beyond a car. Its once normal lines had been altered into an impressively brutal display, large tailpipes that spat fire and spiked hubcaps being among its more subtle characteristics. The color was what truly caught Reggie’s eye. The black undercoat lay beneath a fire orange sheen that made the paint look as though it had been infused with small bits of cadmium colored lightning. It was an incredible feat of electronic engineering and an unexpected testament to the genius housed deep within the scatterbrained mammal currently drooling over her hood.

“Oh my gorgeous, voluptuous, high-voltage _babeh_ ,” Elmo purred as he leaned over the long, sleek front end of the excessively modified, 60’s style limo as though the hug would be pleasing to the car.

Reggie cocked a brow at the display when Elmo continued to mutter sweet nothings to the hunk of metal as if it were answering him. He was already starting to rethink the idea that there was any form of brilliance anywhere inside the less-than-sane rodent.

“All right, file in assholes,” Negaduck ordered, pulling Elmo off the hood by his tail as he moved around to the passenger side of the car.

Reggie was surprised to see that the mallard wouldn’t be driving but was hardly relieved at the idea as he watched Elmo settle into the driver’s seat. Jack didn’t even bother opening the door to get in the car, its convertible nature allowing for a more flamboyant mode of entry; Reggie tried not to feel impressed at the acrobatic flip he did into the plush back seat.

Reggie growled in annoyance when Bud pushed him through the open door to sit beside Jack. “Why do I have to sit in the middle?” he grumbled.

“That’s where the bassist always sits,” Bud replied, closing the door beside him, “Besides, you’ll be safer there. _Believe_ me.”

Before Reggie even had a chance to question the statement, the answer voiced its own meaning. The vehicle sprung to life with no more than a sharp surge of power from the crazed rat at the wheel leaving Reggie little chance to react beyond holding the seat below him for dear life before the over-powered car raced from the garage. The mob outside didn’t stand a chance against the erratic speeding of the insane guitarist at the helm. Reggie was pretty sure at least two of them got hit as they sped into the waning sunlight; he was positive about the third.

“Ahhh old lady! That’s double points!” Jack said excitedly.

Something told Reggie this was one game that was played often.

“Na she lived,” Negaduck said, glancing in the side mirror lazily, “You lose points for that.”

“Hey, I can go back,” Elmo replied, turning his eyes towards the mallard reclined in the seat beside him as he swerved madly around the few other cars scattered on the road.

“No. We’re almost there just keep your eyes on the damn road volt-breath.”

As promised, much to Reggie’s relief, the remainder of the trip did not take long. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding when their needlessly extreme pace finally slowed. Elmo screeched the car abruptly sideways as they pulled in front of their final destination, looking over the side in satisfaction at the perfection of his park job. A glance at the mallard beside him sent Bud into a round of amused sniggers. The horrified plant-duck was still gripping the leather seat below him, his limbs shaking with the effort of trying to hold onto such an unyielding surface. Reggie’s soft, lavender foliage was an unkempt mess, ruffled and puffed out in a way that Bud found strangely irresistible.

Reggie turned slowly towards Bud as if looking for the dripping dog’s assurance that he was still alive. “Does he… _always_ drive?” he questioned, his voice betraying the fact that he desperately hoped not.

“Well, only when we take his baby,” Bud replied with a chuckle, slipping from the car and holding the door open for the mildly traumatized bassist so he could make his way unsteadily from the backseat.

Reggie shook his head, running a lightly quivering hand through his petals in an attempt to get the wild filaments under control as he followed shakily behind Bud. Negaduck had already moved down the darkened stairway and into the building by the time Reggie stood before the worn-out wooden door. The Old Haunt: unassuming on the outside but within the historic walls only the most elite of the city’s well known resided. These were the closet to the band, people Negaduck knew wouldn’t run their mouths or get in his way.

“A bar?” Reggie asked curiously.

“THE bar, Reggie,” Bud said with a grin, “Aren’t you excited?” he questioned, a slight chuckle to his bubbling voice.

“Whatever. A bar’s a bar,” Reggie mumbled as he watched the dripping fiend slip down the stone steps.

“I don’t know. Might be a little, _seedy,_ for your taste,” Jack piped in, waggling his brows at the hesitant duck.

Reggie glared momentarily in response before following Bud’s moist trail down the stairs.

“Come on! _Nothing_?” Jack whined in disapproval, “I thought that one was pretty good.”

Reggie ignored him as he finally stepped into the infamous establishment. The atmosphere was such a contradiction to the outer face of the building that Reggie couldn’t help the astonishment from planting itself plainly on his face. After a brief introduction of the newest member, the group quickly split to go their separate ways. Negaduck was obviously uninterested in spending the night anywhere near the others. Within moments the singer was waist deep in booze and women, just the way he liked it. Jack and Elmo soon followed the other man’s lead, scurrying off in yet another unannounced race leaving only Bud to look after the blatantly struggling bassist as he was faced with the flurry of wealthy fans eager to meet the most recent addition to the band. Reggie tried to keep his uncomfortable shifting at bay as person after person shot questions at him, but failed almost completely. He practically could have collapsed in relief when the obnoxious antics of a certain loud mouthed jester and his drugged out companion drew most of the crowd away. Reggie slipped away from the departing group with as much a mix of stealth and speed as he could manage. The swift retreat quickly stopped when he nearly smacked into a lovely bird that would have stopped him in his tracks even if she hadn’t been in his way.

“Well hello there tall, green and handsome,” the buxom beauty purred, slipping a finger seductively along the exposed part of Reggie’s smooth chest. “Never seen you with this crowd before. I take it you’re the new bassist that’s got everyone in a tizzy.”

Reggie didn’t know what to think. The vixen’s beguiling eyes scrutinized him in a way he was completely unaccustomed to effectively turning his brain to mush. He placed his cigarette in his beak to protect him from having to produce an answer, but it did little to hide the fact that he simply had no idea what to say. As luck would have it, his struggle did not go unnoticed by all the bars dwellers. Reggie jumped slightly as the wet arm draped around his shoulders, an irritated expression masking the internal relief he felt at the moist contact. He was surprised to find that he was starting to become somewhat accustomed to the other man’s unannounced touches. 

“You stealing my girl away there Reg?” Bud questioned in mock hurt as he smirked at the bassist.

The lovely bird in question giggled at the sweet talk. Every lady in that bar knew damn well that no girl was _really_ Bud’s girl. “Oh Buddy, you always know how to flatter a gal now don’t you?” she said.

“Well, I have to protect my interests now don’t I love? Wouldn’t want Reginald here to be taking my place," Bud answered with a flirting grin.

“Oh, no worries cool lips. No boy could ever take Buddy’s place,” the woman replied with a wink.

“So sorry to have to steal your consort away, but I really must introduce dear Reggie to the other lovely patrons,” Bud said as he turned Reggie away from the enchanting beauty.

“But of course,” she said softly, a knowing look in her eyes. “Wonderful to meet you, _Reginald_ ,” she said as the two departed.

“Yeah,” Reggie replied uncertainly, looking over his shoulder at the gorgeous bird.

She winked at him sensually, blowing him a chaste kiss. Reggie tore his eyes from her at the action, the heat in his cheeks leaking so far into his brain that he didn’t realize that no one had even told him her name. Before he could tear his thoughts from the fem fetal behind them, Bud had already steered him to the glowing corner at the back of the softly lit building where the most regular patrons consistently congregated. Normally the long bar would be filled with customers on such a night, but this time only three of the locals remained at the mahogany surface. The gentle glow cast upon the otherwise dark alcove bathed their faces in blue light. The pale shadows cast upon their features made it somewhat difficult for Reggie to make out exactly what they looked like, but one face caught his attention immediately. The older duck was long past the prime of her years, yet there was something strangely captivating about the age of her loveliness: something in the subtle wrinkles on her face lent stories of glorious days long past. He was so engrossed with her that he hardly even took notice of the middle-aged dog and solemn drake sitting beside her. 

“Bud ol’ boy!” the canine called, his tone attesting to his inebriation, “We’ve been waitin’ fer you to show up!” he said, already pouring a glass of the liquid drummer’s favorite drink.

Before Reggie knew it, the eyes of the woman he had been admiring were upon him, smiling at him through the dim glow of indigo light. “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your new friend Buddy?” she asked softly.

“Annything for you Darla dearest,” Bud said suavely, swirling his form around Reggie’s back so that the force of his body could push the tentative duck the last few feet to the bar. “Darla, Reggie. Reggie, Darla,” Bud said, slipping his hand beneath Reggie’s in order to place it in the smiling bird’s outstretched fingers.

“Pleasure to meet you Reginald,” Darla said, beaming sweetly as she lifted her slim cigarette to her lips.

Reggie did his best to hide the slight stiffening of his body at the other bird’s tender touch. “You too,” he said quietly as he slid his leafy hand somewhat too hastily away from her soft feathers.

Darla paid the mild anxiety elicited by her touch little mind but noticed it nonetheless. “Quite the eloquent one, aren’t we?” she replied with a gentle laugh.

“And these other assholes are Benny and Jake,” Bud finished quickly as he took a seat beside his fellow canine and downed the drink the other man had already poured for him.

“Oh, so you’ll do anything for _Darla_ dear and we’re assholes, huh?” Benny asked with mock hurt.

“That’s right,” Bud replied simply already pouring himself another drink. A glance to his right told him that Reggie had yet to take his eyes off the lovely duck sitting to his side. “Geez Reg, sit down will ya?” he said yanking at Reggie’s coat to pull him into the seat at his right.

Reggie shot Bud a weak glare but didn’t bother to respond.

“So, you’re the new bassist?” Benny said leaning across the bar to see past Bud. “Heh, I take it you weren’t interesting enough for ol’ Neggers, eh?” he questioned with a smirk as he took in the other man’s appearance.

“ _Nooo_ , my dad just fucked a tree,” Reggie said sarcastically, lighting a cigarette to try and ease his discomfort. 

Jake was the only one who didn’t laugh at the unexpected answer. Unlike his companions he was well aware that the ironic remark was just a way for the other mallard to hide his insecurity—not that he would have laughed anyway.

“You all right Reggie,” Benny said, still laughing slightly, “Barkeep! Round of booze on me!” he said, whacking his hand on the surface in front of him to get the bartender’s attention.

Reggie cocked an uncertain brow at the unrequested alcohol that had suddenly been placed before him. A soft clink sounded from down the bar as Benny tapped his glass against Bud’s, grinning at the other man as he downed the delightful drink. Bud chuckled slightly at his good friend before looking over at the still slightly shocked bassist beside him. Reggie was just staring at the bronze liquid in front of him as if he was unsure what to do with it.

“What’s the matter Reg? You not a bourbon person?” Bud asked quietly as the others laughed amongst themselves.

“I wouldn’t know. I… don’t really drink,” Reggie muttered, the soft nature of his tone making it obvious that he didn’t want the others to hear.

“Oh Christ Reggie, live a little,” Bud said his eyes swirling in annoyance as he pushed the drink towards the bassist.

Reggie stared at the beverage for a moment before picking it up and bringing it hesitantly to his bill. He knew Bud wouldn’t let it go until he finished at least one drink, so he decided to take the whole thing in one shot. He immediately regretted it. Once the burning liquid contacted his throat his eyes started to water slightly with the effort of keeping himself composed. One of his leafy hands curled into a fist as he brought the appendage to his beak. The hand did a poor job of holding back his soft coughs, but luckily for his fragile ego only Bud could really hear the pathetic reaction. The drummer chuckled in amusement at Reggie’s first introduction to the corrupt temptress known as alcohol. He patted a gloved hand against the quietly-hacking mallard’s back as he filled his glass again. Reggie cocked a displeased brow at the new dose of intoxicant; he certainly wouldn’t be drinking this one as fast. Fortunately he was saved from having to keep up with Bud by the sudden round of questions that came his way. He wasn’t sure he preferred the questions to the drinking, but he could hardly handle much more liquor with his low tolerance. Reggie tried his best to ignore the discomfort at being the center of attention. The constant questioning was quickly starting to ware at him.

“So Reggie darling,” Darla asked, “Tell us about yourself. How’d a nice looking boy like you get mixed up with this rotten crowd?”

Reggie shrugged at the question, sipping slightly from his drink and trying to keep from shuddering at the still-foreign burn the liquid produced. “I just needed a job,” he stated as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You picked a hell of a choice for _just_ a job,” Jake grumbled.

Reggie blinked in surprise at the question. It was the first time he had heard the other mallard speak, and he had almost managed to forget he was there at all. “You take what you can get when you live below the poverty line,” he finally replied.

“Well, you got quite some balls to join this crowd,” Benny offered with a small laugh.

Reggie tipped his head at the aged canine, genuinely curious at the comment. “Why’s that exactly?” he questioned. He didn’t like the unsetting silence that the question provoked.

“You are aware that no bassist has made it past a year, right?” Jake answered, shifting his narrowed eyes to stare at Reggie.

The slouching mutant paused to think the question over for a moment before replying. “Sure,” he answered quietly.

Something told the observant drummer beside him that this wasn’t true. Bud glanced quickly down at Reggie’s empty glass before deciding that the cup necessitated a refill.

Reggie narrowed his eyes at the dripping dog as he saw the empty vessel fill once again. “You just enjoy seeing me suffer through this don’t you?” he questioned quietly.

“Maybe I’m just trying to get you drunk,” Bud said with a cockeyed grin.

“…somehow that would not surprise me,” Reggie replied.

“Well then,” Darla asked, her voice soft and smooth in an obvious attempt to break the tension, “Where do you live Reginald dear? You don’t strike me as the type that’s been hanging around this divine disaster of a city for very long, and you _certainly_ aren’t the type of bassist that we’re used to meeting.”

Reggie stiffened slightly at the question; the aging beauty had unknowingly stumbled on one of his more tender nerves. “I… don’t exactly have a home. I’m more of a drifter I suppose,” he responded uneasily.

“Oh? And what does your family think about that?” Benny questioned.

Reggie was surprised at how genially interested the intoxicated canine sounded. “I wouldn’t know… I left home at 14.”

“So young?” Darla asked, “So, what have you been doing for all these years?”

“A little of this, a little of that.”

“Very nondescript,” Jake muttered suspiciously.

Reggie shrugged. The other duck was quickly becoming an increasing source of disquiet for him despite how little he spoke. “I’ve done so many things at this point… it would be very boring to listen to I’m sure.” He didn’t have the courage to say anything else.

Reggie had never had the desire to use alcohol to escape from his discomfort before, but the constant prying into his past was starting to dig up memories he’d rather forget and only the drink in front of him offered any form of escape.

For the second time that night, Bud took pity on him. “Oh! Reggie, you just _gotta_ meet Sapphire,” he said, suddenly grabbing the mallard by his arm and dragging him out of his seat.

Reggie’s eyes widened as he was yanked from the bar, his knees practically buckling at the unexpected pull. He certainly hadn’t expected the other to come to his rescue so abruptly, but he was hardly complaining.

“Sorry my dears but it’s getting late and I think you’ve hogged enough of Reggie’s time,” Bud said, winking at the others to assure them he was joking.

They barely had time to voice a collective farewell before Bud began to drag Reggie away. It was a good thing too; Reggie was already tripping over his roots slightly from the amount of liquor in his system without having to endure anymore. Bud pulled him down into one of the few sofas situated around the room before settling beside him.

“I thought you were dragging me off to meet someone,” Reggie said once he noticed that there was no one around them. “Where is this Sapphire person?”

Bud snickered lightly. “Yeah, Sapphire was that hottie you met earlier,” he said, “I was just getting bored.”

The reply was actually quite a poor excuse to cover Bud’s true motives, but Reggie was far too relieved to really question his reasons. Bud stretched lazily across the couch, a habit left over from days when he actually possessed muscles. Reggie couldn’t help the soft chuckle that passed his bill as he watched the other recline against the armrest. Maybe Bud wasn’t so bad after all.

As the night crept on, the many partying individuals began to thin out as they found better locations to take their fun to leaving the bar nearly empty save for the metal icons and their more loyal fans. The dragging hours found Reggie sill sitting with Bud, listening to the many tales the dog had to tell. The table in front of them was scattered with empty liquor bottles and cigarette butts giving evidence of how long they had been there. Bud now spewed stories almost at random in his increasingly drunken state. He’d even managed to coax a few more drinks down Reggie’s throat, a triumph Bud was very proud of. Reggie focused his inebriated gaze across the nearly empty tavern as the sound of Jack’s drunken singing filtered across the space. The jester was sprawled across the bar where Reggie and Bud had been sitting hours earlier apparently making up words as to go along with the quiet tune that Elmo was playing.

“So wha’s the deal with them anyway?” Reggie questioned, suddenly interested in knowing more about the strange group he would be living with. “I mean, how the hell did ‘e find you people?” he reiterated, attempting and failing to keep the slight slur from his voice.

“Well that’s quite the story from what I hear,” Bud replied, lifting himself from where he had been laying across the couch so that he could throw a wet arm around Reggie’s shoulder. “I can tell you what I’ve heard, but as for vouching for the validity I make no promises.” He snickered slightly as though the idea was funny.

Reggie made a mental note to remember how easy the dog was to get information out of when he was drunk enough. “I’ll bet. I take it you all met because of the band?” he asked.

“Na, they knew each other before. I think they met here but I _know_ Jack came from some shithole town out west ‘n some bible thumpin’ place,” he paused only to take a deep drink from his latest bottle of liquid bliss, “Apparently they thought he was an omen a the antichrist or some shit so they threw ‘im out of town. Heh, according to him he was a stripper for a while before he decided that was too boring, an stared a business makin’ toys of a.. _naughty_ persuasion, did that for a bit before he got his ass thrown in jail,” Bud snickered stupidly to himself once again, obviously amused by Jack’s unusual résumé.

“What’d he end up in jail for?” Reggie asked when the other man didn’t continue.

Bud shrugged, slipping his arm from Reggie’s shoulder. “Beats me. He changes the story every time ya ask ‘im, but I do know he was transferred here to St. Canard prison, broke out and somehow ended up with Elmo.”

“No shit? So, Elmo grow up here?”

“I think so, but no one really knows much about him. From what I hear he was a junkie who got so desperate for a cheap high that he invented a way ta get fucked up on electricity. I do know he was living on the streets when Jack met him. Said he was about 16 at the time, but his brain’s so goddamned fried at this point that I doubt anyone will ever really know.”

“ _16_? How long have they known each other?”

“A few years. Mo’s only like 20 right now. But like I said, no one really knows, he jus kinda guesses about his own age.”

“Guesses?! How can he not even know his own damn age?” Reggie asked in disbelief, “There’s no way he’s _that_ brain dead.”

“ _Oh, yeah_?” Bud challenged. He leaned close to Reggie once again prompting his attention back to the two guitarists across the bar. “Ever notice how he’s constantly plucking at that damn guitar?”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“Well, he does that because if he didn’t he’d forget the songs every five fuckin’ minutes.”

“Hmmm,” was Reggie’s only reply as he contemplated the information that he had gathered over the past few hours. “So, Negaduck is the spawn of the devil, Jack is a man whore from Utah, and Elmo is a brain-dead, power plant reject turned voltage junkie.”

“Yup, that’s the story as far as I know it,” Bud said, sprawling idly back across the damp couch cushions.

“Hm… well there’s still one thing you never told me,” Reggie said, cocking a brow at the lounging water-dog.

“Oh?” Bud answered opening an eye at him, “And wha would that be?”

“What about Buddy? What’s the incredible sopping drummer’s story?”

Bud couldn’t help the grin that spread across his muzzle at the other calling him Buddy; he didn’t bother mentioning the implications of the other referring to him by that name. “Heh, well not much to tell there,” he said, “I’m quite the normal one don’t ya know. I was born and raised in a small town outside St. Canard’s suburbs. Like, most basic family ever. Two kids, two car garage, all that shit. I worked as a door to door salesman until I decided I couldn’t _stand_ my life, pooled all my money, and came to the city to be a drummer. The rest is history. Those three loons track me down and say I can be rich and famous if I let them throw me into a vat of dubious, burning liquid,” he finished with a trivial flip of his wrist.

Reggie looked at him as though he’d fashioned a second head. “Soo you let them?”

Bud shrugged, his eyes slipping closed once again. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Reggie’s head cocked to the side slightly as he observed the other man. He found the strange urge to watch Bud’s constantly flowing water as it sparkled gently in the light. Something in that moment seemed to warn him of how important his peculiar relationship with the dog was going to become.


	5. The Suffering

Dawn brought a groan to Reggie's bill, compelling the miserable mallard to flip himself over to try and escape the unwanted rays. As soon as the light was shaded from the bassist's form, he was reminded of exactly how much he now needed the sun. He shuddered unhappily as the darkness quickly stole every ounce of warmth from his body, draining away what little energy he currently possessed. He practically had to force himself to flip back over, throwing an arm over his eyes to lessen the sun's assault.

He cursed internally for a few moments as though the unspoken complaints would convince the light to go away; his soft grumbles were all that betrayed the inner dialog— a quiet testament to his foul mood. A leafy hand searched blindly for his discarded coat, his still foggy brain incapable of remembering where he had deposited it the night before. He could barely even remember how they had gotten back to the manor let alone recall where the garment had fallen.

His arm flopped listlessly over the side of the bed, creeping along the ground in his pursuit. It took a few moments for Reggie to realize that something wasn't quite the same as usual. Weary eyes widened in a mix of curiosity and confusion at the odd feeling that was spreading through his arm. He glanced to the side, scrutinizing the slim, green limb, to examine the source of the abnormal feeling. Reggie blinked in disbelief at the vine-like arm, thoroughly intrigued by the sight before him. The appendage had been subconsciously stretched past what would have been physically possible just a few days earlier. He pulled the arm back towards himself, quivering slightly at the still foreign sensation. Reggie stared at his hand in disbelief for a few moments before deciding to try the action again.

"Huh, well isn't that the damndest thing," he muttered softly to himself before reaching back over the side of the bed to resume his search. Had he been more awake he probably would have been a bit more distressed at the additional abnormality.

After several painful moments, the search finally produced the black and white garment and the promise of nicotine it represented. Sluggish hands pulled the coat over his body, laying it over himself like a blanket, in an attempt to state the need for the familiar feeling of it against his skin. Reggie sighed heavily as he fished through the trench coat's inner pocket for the cigarettes.

The brief search quickly produced the mostly empty pack, slightly crushed from the previous night's exploits, for Reggie to rifle through. A soft sigh of relief greeted the lone cigarette nestled within the foil-lined box. At least he wouldn't have to go find another one just yet.

After several long moments of staring at the high ceiling absently and smoking, the still drowsy mallard finally managed to convince his stiff joints to move so that he could open the dark curtains further. He couldn't help but tip his head towards the recuperative illumination; it wasn't enough. His newly acquired need for light compelled him to search for a way out of the dark room. A few moments of searching produced a mode of escape that was previously unnoticed to the bassist. Reggie tipped his head in contemplation momentarily before grabbing one of his unopened packs of cigarettes to accompany him on his journey outside. The tall, glass doors were surprisingly heavy and seemed to almost resist being opened, groaning in protest as Reggie pushed them apart so that he could step onto the small balcony just outside them. Reggie couldn't help the euphoric shivers that spread through his body as he stepped fully into the sun; it was the one aspect of his transformation that was quickly becoming a secret guilty pleasure to the plant-duck.

After only a few moments in the orange-tinted light, Reggie was inexplicitly struck with the irresistible desire to be closer to the source of ecstasy. Blue eyes tilted towards the nearby peak of the massive building, considering thoughtfully for a moment. Leafy hands lifted slightly as Reggie looked down at the appendages and then back up to the sloped roof above him. The idea was just ridiculous enough to work.

He flicked his expended smoke over the balcony edge as he considered the odd notion. His manner was almost timid as he tried stretching his arms again, the action requiring him to focus intently on the movement. He had to admit, it was somewhat satisfying when he finally managed to get both slim appendages to extend. It only took a few moments for the wriggling vines to reach the lightning rod situated atop the roof. It took some unflattering wiggling and odd stretching of his torso to accomplish the climb, but he eventually managed to struggle his way up the sloped surface.

He sighed in relief as he finally reached his nearby destination. Perched upon the towering apex Reggie could see the entire expanse of the city spread out below him. The fiery orange of the rising sun lent the illusion that the entire city was burning. Or was that just from the fans? He lit a cigarette to celebrate his small victory as he looked over the metropolis. It was a foreign feeling for Reggie to look down at others. Yet it was somehow oddly gratifying. Maybe this fame thing wouldn't be so bad after all.

His thoughts wandered aimlessly as he looked over the disturbed city. From the top of the immense manor he could actually see out to the badlands, the greenhouse barely visible in the distance. He wasn't sure why, but he was suddenly struck with the strange feeling that the lifeless structure was calling out for him; it was oddly analogous to an old friend begging for a visit. He was shaken from the strange contemplations by an abnormally animate stream of water that flowed up the excessive slope. Reggie jolted, nearly falling from his perch, as the eerily cognate liquid slipped into the familiar form of the manor's resident water-dog.

"Aagh! Don't DO that!" Reggie gripped at the smirking drummer, clutching at his chest in an attempt to calm his racing heart.

"What can I say?" Bud responded, chortling in amusement at the flustered duck, "You're just too damn cute when you're scared shitless."

Reggie cocked a suspicious brow at the still chuckling canine; he was starting to seriously question the drummer's presumably flippant remarks. He merely grumbled in reply, annoyed expression settling on his face at the other's amusement.

"So uh, I gotta ask… what the hell brings ya to these parts Reg?" Bud questioned with a slight chuckle when the other didn't reply.

"Need sun man," Reggie answered simply, pointing a finger at the sky.

Bud lifted a brow upward, as though to confirm the idea that the burning sphere above them represented such a significant source of nutrition for the mallard. "Hm… well that makes sense I suppose," he muttered, reclining against the slanted roof in a gravity defying way that would have been quite impossible before his mutation.

Bud looked over at the other when he didn't reply further. His head tilted curiously at the way Reggie was craning his neck at the sky, eyes closed and purple locks almost shimmering in the morning light. The way the rays spread across the soft foliage in a shimmering display of lavender shades almost made him shiver.

Beautiful. The thought was somehow startling to Bud. He shook his head frantically, trying to remove the repeating word from his mind. Liquid eyes slid shut to shield the oddly gorgeous sight from his vision. He was starting to run out of excuses to convince himself that he wasn't attracted to the moody mallard.

"So… how'd you get up here anyway?" he finally asked— a further attempt to shift the focus of his thoughts.

He was surprised to hear what could almost be classified as a chuckle come from the other at the question. "Heh, pretty cool trick actually," Reggie replied, waiting for Bud to focus his eyes on him before continuing, "Check it out." He lifted a hand, releasing its hold on the metal rod to assist in his demonstration. Bud shifted so that his elbows supported his weight as he watched curiously. The thin arm stretched, extending beyond what Bud would have thought possible. Reggie wriggled it slightly before he snapped it back, coiling the appendage once again to its normal length. Reggie almost smirked at the mildly shocked expression on the other's face. Bud grinned amusedly at him. The action only served to wipe what little semblance of a grin was present on Reggie's green features. Bud suddenly found himself wishing desperately the mallard would smile.

"Well, feeling better?" he asked

"No. I'm hung over as hell," Reggie replied cocking an eye at the lounging water dog, "I believe I have you to thank for that."

Bud smirked at the comment, eyes moving to look over the waking city. "You're welcome."

The sound of the other shifting prompted his gaze back to the bassist. He watched as the other mutant grabbed the pole with both hands and stretched his arms out to lower himself to the balcony below. The action made Reggie's previous claims quite clear.

Bud slipped down the slanted roof after him in an almost lazy manner, his water sliding over the edge in a small glistening waterfall. Reggie's eyes narrowed in irritation as some of the liquid splashed into his purple hair. He couldn't help but wonder if the other did it on purpose.

Bud seemed essentially oblivious to the fact that he had just doused his cranky companion. Reggie shook his hair erratically to try and remove some of the annoying water. Something about the carefree, overly elated smile that was currently plastered on Bud's face only served to worsen Reggie's mood. He would have to be a morning person.

Reggie groaned as his head chose that moment to throb horribly, rubbing at his temples to try and ease some of the pain. The soft sound of discomfort earned him Bud's attention once again. He lit another cigarette to avoid having to answer the questioning look on the other's face. Bud knew better than to push him.

"Come on Reg, let's go get some breakfast. I need booze," he said, slipping back into the dim room.

Without the threat of Bud seeing, Reggie couldn't stop the mildly amused smirk that made its way onto his face. As much as he hated to admit it there was something about the drummer's lighthearted attitude that was annoyingly infectious. He shook his head slightly to wipe the small grin off his face before he followed the dripping dog through his room. He certainly could use some kind of breakfast. There was something his whole body still seemed to be craving. Besides maybe some aspirin.

A quiet scraping accompanied the journey from Reggie's roots dragging softly against the tiled ground. His shoulder was rubbing gently against the wall beside them as he leaned up against it to assist in keeping him upright. Bud almost considered offering his help.

The soft chatter and several telltale cackles coming from the nearby kitchen told Reggie that the two local guitarists were already up. He had to force back the groan that threatened to sound at the thought of seeing the other two so early. Reggie was learning quite quickly that there was a limit to how much of their antics he could stand. He squinted against the overly bright kitchen, so that he could see the two through the painful light.

They were talking softly amongst themselves, giggling childishly at some joke that would obviously be amusing only to them. Jack was leaned over the table spooning a colorful cereal into his mouth between laughs while Elmo plucked quietly at his ever-present guitar his soft snickers making him fumble slightly. The quiet sound of Reggie's feet against the ground was the only noise that accompanied the two mutants into the kitchen, but it was apparently enough to alert Jack of their presence.

His grin spread quickly after a glance over his shoulder affirmed their presence. Reggie didn't like the suggestive look he was giving them.

"Why hello there lovelies. Sleeeep well?" he questioned, eyebrows waggling to emphasize what he actually meant.

Bud's entertained smirk gave away his slight amusement at the comment despite the roll of his eyes. "Not THAT well Jack."

Reggie chose not to comment, mostly due to the fact that he didn't know what to say, but his deep green tint spoke magnitudes to the embarrassment that the playful question provoked. He grumbled softly as he dropped himself into one of the stools beside Bud at the long center island. Despite his best efforts, Jack's quiet, but still maniacal, laughs were difficult to ignore. Reggie propped his chin exhaustedly on the countertop, the newly acquired level of flexibility in his spine making the position surprisingly comfortable.

Even from across the room, Reggie could practically feel the gaze of a certain mischievous mallard scrutinizing him. He sighed heavily at the stare. "What Quack?" he finally questioned, not even bothering to shift his head in order to look at him.

"How's that hangover treating ya there Bushy?"

The miserable groan Reggie offered in reply was obviously enough of an answer for the giggling mallard. It didn't take long for the jester's attention to return to the rodent beside him. Reggie's eyes rolled as he resisted the urge to groan yet again, shifting his gaze around the counter in an attempt to stray his thoughts. An excessively bright, and oddly cheery, box suddenly caught his eye. He lifted his head from the surface beneath him in curiosity; the cereal was undeniably out of place in the steel adorned kitchen. It only took a moment for his hazy mind to realize that it must have been what Jack was currently munching noisily on.

"Fruities," Reggie mumbled, cocking an eye at the vibrant box. "Oddly appropriate."

The comment stopped Jack mid bite of the colorful concoction, prompting his shocked gaze over to the bassist. "Was that a joke at my expense Bushy?" he questioned, stupid grin spreading across his large bill. "So you're secretly a FUN GUY after all huh?"

Reggie rolled his eyes at the laughs that followed. If he wasn't getting so used to the jester's lame puns he would probably have been more annoyed. He rubbed at his temples when the eye rolling caused his headache to throb horribly. He practically jumped out of his skin when he felt Bud pluck something from his head. His back straightened abruptly as he nearly fell from his stool, the perch growing unstable at the abrupt shift in weight. The unexpectedly extreme reaction caused Bud to stand up and grab him around the waist to prevent him from suffering an unfortunate meeting with the ground. The dark green tint that had never fully left Reggie since they entered the kitchen spread across his entire face once he realized the embrace Bud currently had him in.

"Uh… Bud?" Reggie questioned, too flustered to produce more of a reaction let alone remove the arm still around his midsection.

The situation left Bud speechless for a different reason. The slightly ruffled hair, the wide blue eyes and shocked expression all lent a strange sense of perfection to the moment that was difficult for him to ignore. Despite Bud's brief mental lapse, he quickly replaced his captivated expression with one of his more usual lighthearted grins. He suddenly found himself laughing genuinely at the situation, much to Reggie's displeasure. "You just had something in your hair," he finally answered, still snickering slightly. Reggie didn't seem to notice that he still hadn't moved his hand.

"Whoa there Buddy boy tap dat on your own time!" Jack suddenly hooted across the room, effectively breaking the brief spell.

Elmo paused his plucking momentarily to smack his companion lightly at the loud cackle. The momentary break in Jack's attention was more than enough to snap Reggie back to his senses causing him to jerk roughly away from the other's grip. Bud couldn't help the displeased look that crossed his face as he slipped back into his seat.

"Ow, wha'd ya do—" Jack cut himself off, realization blatant on his face, "Oooooh! Right," he giggled, "My bad. Tap that on your own time" he repeated in an obnoxious whisper.

"Why are we whispering?" Bud asked, curling a hand over his mouth as though it would help carry his voice across the room.

"Negs threatened death on us if we didn't… shut our… collective cock holes," Elmo replied, obviously thinking very hard to recall the exact words the singer had used.

"Yeeeah. His mighty bitchiness needs his beauty sleep," Jack griped in a high-pitched mocking tone, shoveling more of the sugary bits forcefully into his bill.

"Hmm, well that isn't surprising," Bud muttered more to himself than the guitarists.

It wasn't long before he was compelled to glance back at Reggie. His previous embarrassment had been replaced with his still present exhaustion and discomfort. The unhappy groan was enough to tell the drummer that there was more bothering the mallard than the lasting effects from the previous night's inebriation. Bud rubbed sheepishly at the back of his head as he tried to figure out what to say that wouldn't insult or annoy Reggie.

"You ever gone over 10 day without eating?" Reggie questioned, addressing Bud's concerns before he had the chance to say anything.

"Yes," Elmo answered, apparently oblivious to the fact that he was not the one being addressed. "At least… I assume." He scratched his head slightly as though trying to recall if it was actually true.

Reggie cocked a brow at the rodent, trying to decide who he should be answering. "Yeeah, well that's how I feel," he finished, propping his chin on his hands.

Bud considered this for a moment, humming softly as he looked around before his eyes fell on a large plate full of toast. Jack always insisted on making so much toast even though he never ate it: an often vain attempt to get his forgetful, and borderline anorexic, companion to eat more.

"Try this," Bud said, pulling the plate towards the mallard.

"I don't know. Do plants… eat toast?"

Bud rolled his eyes, suddenly annoyed: Reggie seemed to have that effect on him. "Humor me."

Reggie lifted a brow at the toast, considering for a moment whether he actually wanted to try eating one of the starchy slices. The knowledge that Bud wasn't about to let the idea go compelled him to lift one of the pieces to his mouth. Despite the small portion his timid bite consisted of, his body was still painfully unwilling to accept the nourishment. A leafy hand clamped over his bill as the now slimy hunk of food immediately returned from his stomach. He didn't question the damp napkin that Bud handed him. Reggie shuddered slightly as he deposited the small bit of chewed food into the offered paper.

"Ugh! That. Was. Terrible," he said softly shuddering as he wadded up the napkin.

"Hmm, well that didn't work. Heh, sorry for the suggestion," Bud said with a slight chuckle, patting Reggie's back in an attempt at comfort. "Eating is overrated anyway."

Reggie almost found the statement amusing. Almost. "Well, what about you people?" he queried, "I don't exactly see anyone stuffing their face besides Jack." He tried to ignore the immature raspberry Jack sent his way in response to the comment.

"Well I never eat and Sparky tends to just forget that particular process, so I suppose Jack's really the only one who ever eats all that much," Bud answered with a shrug.

"Ha, ha, you're the fat one Quacky!" Elmo teased, prodding the munching mallard in one of his protruding cheeks.

"Am not fat!" Jack cried childishly through his mouthful of Fruities, spraying some of the macerated bits at the electrical rodent.

"Uh-huh," Reggie muttered lifting a brow quizzically at the two bickering guitarists before looking back to Bud. "So, what about Negaduck? When does the self-proclaimed lord of the underworld feed?"

"I only feed on coffee and the souls of the innocent," the telltale voice grumbled as said singer chose that moment to make an appearance. He made his usual trip straight to the coffee pot which had been filled hours ago by one of the many unseen servants that roamed the manor.

His ever-present black mask was slightly askew, leaving it to give glimpses of his baggy, exhausted eyes. The rest of his usual attire was missing, leaving him in only his dark pants. The ruffled nature of his feathers and telltale lipstick smears on his cheek gave evidence that he had not spent the night alone. The mallard had obviously done a number on himself, Reggie suspected from more than just booze this time around. Within a few seconds, the first cup of pure caffeine was downed and the mallard was already refilling the empty mug. Now equipped with his fresh cup of coffee, the groggy singer trudged over to sit where Reggie and Bud were currently congregating. He scratched absently at the cracked portion of his bill as he dropped himself into one of the bar stools on the opposite side of the table.

"Well, hope you kiddies all had a good time last night, cause we got a lot of shit to get done today," he grumbled.

Reggie groaned internally, using every scrap of his willpower to keep the displeased noise to himself. He had a horrible feeling that it was going to be a very long day.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the afternoon wore on, far less was accomplished than Negaduck had hoped.

The mallard scowled at the screen before him, listening intently for the vexing discrepancies he knew were there. Behind him the others sat in silence, accustomed to their lack of role in the editing process. Reggie shifted on the hard couch they currently occupied. He was less used to the long process of watching Negaduck delete take after take of the latest songs. He had to give the mallard one thing: he was nothing if not picky about what he allowed on his album.

The perturbed bassist shifted for the hundredth time in the past ten minutes, his continual supply of cigarettes offering little validation for the lengthy wait. He kept trying to keep himself from shifting towards the drummer beside him, but the mallard to his right was making that task increasingly difficult. The longer the wait stretched on, the harder it was for the jester to remain still, and he seemed to find solace only in the act of pestering Reggie. The plant duck hadn't wanted to sit beside the annoyance, but a certain rodent insisted on putting as much space between him and Bud as possible. Apparently it was just a given that the guitarist was allowed whichever seat was farthest from the dripping drummer.

Reggie was growing increasingly frustrated at the entire situation. They had been there for hours and so far there had been little for him to even do since he only knew a few of their songs. Most of what he had played so far he had been forced to sight read. After another three hours of doing nothing, he finally broke down and lit the 'special' smokes that he kept for such occasions: his own blend of tobacco and other less legal substances. His mind wandered until he heard the duck beside him sniffing the air frantically. Blue eyes rolled at the snorting. I suppose it was too much to ask that he just wouldn't notice. 

He shifted his head to acknowledge the obnoxiousness that he knew was coming, only have the guitarist's face pressed to his, mask-clad eyes gazing through him knowingly. Reggie didn't quite realize that in Jack's mind, shifting his gaze away was an admission that he had lost a game that existed only within the jester's own mind.

"HA! I knew you kept special smokies around!" he exclaimed triumphantly, prodding the exasperated Reggie in the chest harshly.

The preoccupied singer before them spun in his chair at the obtrusive sound, growling harshly in warning to the both of them. A cigarette of the same persuasion had just forced him to shut Jack up after a similar scene only a few hours earlier. Jack leaned back against the stiff couch, arms crossed across his chest and smug grin still planted on his face. Negaduck didn't wait for more of a reaction before turning back to the expansive screen in front of him. After four tracks of torture, he was ready to just find out what was tormenting him about them so they could move on and he was in no mood for the group behind him to slow things down anymore. It was their fault anyway. It couldn't possibly be his magnificent singing that was the problem.

Reggie sighed irately at the duck beside him. He knew the mallard was still staring at him. At least he wasn't pulling on his hair anymore.

"You know it's not nice to bring candy to class if you're not gonna share with the other kids Reggie," Jack said quietly, grin never falling from his face.

Reggie cocked an eyebrow at him, tilting his head to the side so that he could blow his latest batch of smoke into the clown's face.

"There. I shared," he stated simply, turning away from the other once again.

His eyes shot open as a substantial knife suddenly embedded itself into the wall just behind them. Reggie's startled gaze met Jack's as they both stared at the weapon that had made its way between them.

"Share later homos. I have discerned what our problem is," Negaduck stated as he pivoted his chair lazily around to face them.

"Finally!" Elmo groaned, moving his legs from the short table before the couch so that he was no longer reclined in the uncomfortable furniture. "I'm going to forget the next song again if we don't get on with this soon."

"So how do we fix the problem boss?" Bud interjected sleepily in hopes to get things back on track as soon as possible.

"Well that depends," he replied, fixing his gaze on the bassist beside the dozing drummer. "Reginald?" he addressed the plant-duck deeply.

"Uh… yeeah?" Reggie replied nervously, unsure of how to respond to the growling mallard.

"Could you do me a favor, and SUCK a little less?"

"Not my fault," Reggie grumbled, "You try playing a guitar with no fingers," he finished, lifting a leafy hand for emphasis.

"Oh yeah?" Negaduck growled "Well you… actually kind of have a point," he finished, rubbing his chin in thought as he observed the digit-less hand; aside from Reggie's thumbs there was little to aid him in playing. After a moment of contemplation, he brought his eyes back to the bassist, grin spreading across his face. Reggie gulped in response. He'd been around long enough to know that a grinning Negaduck wasn't usually a good thing for him.

"I can fix that," the mallard hissed smugly, walking towards them to yank the knife from the wall.

Before Reggie even had a chance to react to facing a smirking, knife-wielding Negaduck, his right hand was captured in the mallard's cold, harsh grip. The large blade sliced mercilessly through the thin appendage, cutting his hand down the middle so that he now supported three fingers.

"Ow, what the fuck man?" Reggie yelled, gripping the bleeding appendage in his good hand and bringing it to his chest to protect it from the grinning mallard.

Negaduck didn't bother to reply before seizing Reggie's other hand roughly, pulling it away from its wounded companion. He cut the previously unharmed leaf quickly, giving it the same treatment as the previous. Reggie jerked away from the pain instinctively, pushing away from the other to the point that forced himself right through the drummer next to him and over the side of the couch. He groaned miserably at the harsh treatment, lying on his back and staring at his shaking hands. Deep green fluid exuded from delicate veins in the leafy digits. The blood was an almost eerie shade, bordering on black.

"There. Problem solved," Negaduck replied as he slipped the blade effortlessly back into its sheath.

Elmo and Jack both snickered at the miserable hybrid, muttering quietly amongst themselves.

"Uhhhh, I would so flip you off right now if I had a middle finger," Reggie mumbled from his place on the floor.

"Negs can fix that for you ya know," Jack giggled, sending his companion off into another fit of sniggers.

Reggie growled in response, coiling his bleeding hands in his coat as he lifted himself into a sitting position. Yeah I can totally play now, he thought irately to himself.

"Ok plant face, quit your bitchin' and wrap those up so we can get this over with and move on already," Negaduck snapped, obviously unwilling to offer even an ounce of pity.

"See, everything is the bassist's fault," Jack stated happily.

"You're redoing yours too chuckles," Negaduck stated matter-of-factly as he finished isolating the problem areas.

The glee was quickly stripped from Jack's face at the statement. "What? Whyyyyy?" he whined.

"Oooh, you wanna know why Jack?" the mallard replied in a sarcastically kind tone.

He turned back to the areas he had been isolating, turning the entire band down but Jack's rhythm. Through the sound of the guitar soft giggles could be heard.

Elmo snickered nasally at the quiet chuckles. "Heeh, you got in trouble," he sang.

Jack could just see the snide look through the deeply tinted shades. "Well it's your fault! You shouldn't have been making faces," he retorted huffily.

"YOU were the one making faces!"

"Well YOU provoked me!"

Negaduck growled as the childish spat continued, standing in a surprisingly calm manner to walk towards them. He grabbed roughly at Elmo's hair, fisting his fingers in Jack's hat at the same time as he smashed their heads forcefully together. He smirked amusedly as the two rubbed their now throbbing faces.

"Ok," the singer said clapping his hands together in a very satisfied manner. "Let's take 5."

"Five minutes huh?" Jack said rubbing his chin in thought, his previous pain already forgotten. He turned to the rodent beside him, throwing an arm over his shoulders. "How bout a quicky love spark?"

Elmo blinked stupidly at the other's waggling brows apparently dumbfounded. "Have we ever even done it that quick?" he finally asked.

Jack rolled his eyes in response, dragging his forgetful companion off the couch. "Oh Sparky, I have so much to teach you still… and re-teach you.

Reggie watched them go dumbfounded, grunting slightly as he lifted himself from the floor. Still bleeding hands twined tightly in his coat as he made his way to a nearby bathroom. He grumbled angrily to himself, trying to drown the pain in his fury. He didn't even notice the pity-filled stare from behind him. As he entered the small room he forced himself to face his reflection; he wasn't sure he would ever get used to the sight that faced him. He tried to ignore how terrible he looked. The dark rings below his eyes betrayed his lack of sleep, adding an unhealthy look to his already sloped and shivering demeanor. Reggie finally tore his gaze away from the pathetic picture before him to attend to his suffering fingers.

The miserable mutant held the quivering appendages forlornly under the cooling stream, watching as the soothing liquid melded with the sickly green stealing the dark blood away. As he watched the soiled water circle the drain, he couldn't help but be reminded of a certain sopping mammal. He groaned miserably at the mental images the fluid produced. Damn dog. 

He rummaged beneath the steel-embellished sink, searching desperately for something to contain the persistent flow of blood currently splattering on the tiled floor. Reggie grimaced slightly at the unsettling sound produced as the surprisingly thick fluid hit the ground. He really needed to find some bandages or something. Further inspection of the dark depths finally produced a large role of bandages and various adhesive strips.

It was no surprise that the leaves were difficult to wrap, their thin nature combined with the stiff pain still coursing through them making the task all but impossible. If it wasn't for the fact that they were far thicker than actual leaves he wouldn't have been able to cover them at all. The notion didn't help much given his current issues. He cursed volatilely at the uncooperative cloth strips, trying desperately to make his newly acquired fingers to work well enough to assist him in wrapping the delicate leaves.

He practically jumped out of his green skin as the liquid form materialized beside him, the roll of gauze falling to the floor in his shock. "Gahh! Will you STOP doing that?" he snapped at the annoyingly smug looking dog.

He didn't wait for a reply before he returned his attention to the infuriating bandages. Reggie couldn't help but feel stupid as he fumbled with the gauze. Bud sighed at the obviously painful attempts resisting the urge to chuckle at how adorable the other looked when he was flustered.

"Just let me help," he finally said, a slightly annoyed edge to his voice. He was growing tired of watching the other struggle. Wet fingers grasped abruptly at Reggie's tormented appendages, the fluid nature of his form softening the rough way in which he grabbed them. "You're failing miserably, you know."

Reggie tried to hold back the deep green tinge he knew was spreading across his face, focusing his gaze intently on the place where the other was wrapping his injured fingers in an attempt to keep the other from noticing. He was lucky that Bud was a bit too focused on other things to really pay attention.

Bud suddenly found himself unable to resist the urge to run his fingers along the injured leaves, his water seeping deeper into the bandages to cool the agony-stricken fingers. He hardly noticed the slight shiver that ran through his body at the contact. There was something oddly pleasurable in the touch. Something akin to a tingling heat that spread though his fingers as the water soaked into the other's skin. Wet fingers slipped gently along the bandages in an attempt to prompt more of the feeling.

Reggie tried to tell himself that the liquid was not so extremely soothing. It took several moments for him to notice that he was staring at the place where the drummer was lightly stroking his hands. He yanked his leaves roughly away from the tender touch once he realized the hesitation.

His hands twisted together in a characteristic show of discomfort that he had been trying for years to eradicate from his mannerisms. His efforts had obviously fallen short. He cursed internally at how much more his fingers hurt without the contact to the infuriatingly helpful water. What the hell makes his water so damn different?

"Uhh, thanks… I guess," he finally said, rubbing at the back of his neck nervously.

Reggie shifted back and forth self-consciously on his roots when Bud continued to stare at him. He couldn't help but feel stupid that he was incapable of looking the canine in the eye.

Bud smiled softly in amusement as the dark green blush spread itself across Reggie's face once again. He wasn't even sure the other noticed but he was starting to grow quite fond of the color on him. "Well, we'd better be getting back," Bud said softly, trying to rip himself out of yet another bassist-induced trance. "Negs is not known for his patience."

Reggie watched him suspiciously as he left, unable to keep from wondering about his true motives. He shuddered slightly at the sudden barrage of unwanted thoughts that the notion produced. Somehow he was having a hard time convincing himself that this was just how Bud acted. He followed absently, eyes downcast as he followed the drummer's wet trail.

He was ripped from the unsettling thoughts when he almost ran into the very dog causing them. His gripes were stopped before they even made it past his bill as he noticed the stares of the rest of the band currently gathered back in the recording area. Reggie was suddenly finding it hard to resist the urge to shrink further behind the watery figure in front of him. He could practically feel the fury behind the glare Negaduck was currently giving them.

"So nice of you both to grace us with your presence," he growled lowly, the malice in his tone attesting to his obvious displeasure at being kept waiting. "WHAT, pray tell, did you two not understand about 5 MINUTES?"

"Don't bust a vessel boss. We were just fixing Reginald's recent… modifications," Bud said nonchalantly, making his way smoothly back to his seat.

Negaduck watched him make his way back to the hard sofa, eyes narrowed suspiciously. It wasn't long before he turned his red eyes on the other source of his current displeasure. The stare made Reggie wince; he didn't even bother to try and hide it.

"I don't suppose YOU have anything to add, Reginald?" Negaduck growled.

"Uhh, I…" he rubbed at his thick hair, trying desperately to produce some kind of answer that wouldn't put him even more on the spot.

"Just get in there and get me my fuckin' track so we can move ON!"

Reggie nodded curtly, grabbing his bass from where he had propped it on the couch. He didn't make it more than a few feet towards the recording room before he was suddenly pulled into a one-armed embrace by Jack.

"Come on Bushy boo! Let's make beautiful music together," the jester purred, mischievous grin spreading across his face at the mildly disgusted look Reggie gave him.

Reggie flinched at the contact of the feathered arm, struggling futilely as it tightened around his neck. He was more or less pulled the rest of the way into the confined recording room; Jack only releasing him once they had made it inside.

Negaduck's leg shook impatiently as he waited for them to get situated. The second they both seemed prepared he switched on the speaker that allowed him to talk to them. "Ok," he growled irately, "WOW me."

The pressure required to force the strings to make a sound stung the leaves and caused them to exude more of the blackish blood, staining the shining guitar surface. Although it was easier to actually play the notes with individual fingers, in many ways it was far more difficult than it had been before. Reggie clenched his teeth against the pain, forcing his fingers to continue the torture. There was no point in stopping now. Jack seemed completely incapable of staying still throughout the course of the song. He was constantly jumping from foot to foot just to keep himself from drifting off. Reggie was just thankful he hadn't decided to occupy himself by putting him through more torture.

Through the glass separating the sound room from the rest of the recording area, Reggie could see the perturbed singer drumming his fingers against the sound board.

"You still suck Reginald!"

Reggie fumed at the comment. "Give me a fuckin' break will ya! I can't seem to get these damn fingers to move properly."

He glanced down at the leafy digits in hopes that an examination would yield the problem. Blue eyes widened as he observed an unexpected addition to his current problems: the leaves were already starting to heal. Reggie's jaw dropped at the strange sight presented as the green skin tried to grow around his bandages. The parts that had not been covered had already merged back together.

"Uhh…" he said softly, hesitating as he watched the unnatural healing, "They're kinda … growing back together."

Negaduck dropped his head onto the sound board, trying to keep himself from banging his forehead into it. "Look just FIX it or I WILL!" he growled, lifting his head so his red eyes could stare at Reggie.

The bassist shuddered at the thought as he looked back down at his fingers. He swallowed thickly as he started to pull at the spot where the two fingers were joining. His entire body trembled as he forced the healing leaves back apart, the unusual tissue inside painting a sickly picture of veins and strange muscle as it was exposed once again. Jack shuddered slightly as another wave of dark blood poured from the wound.

"Wow. That… is seriously disgusting," he said, tongue protruding from his beak slightly in a display of repulsion.

Reggie sighed in relief as he finished separating the two once again, shifting the bandages so that they covered more of the digits. Negaduck pushed him to accomplish something, but the pain in his fingers and loss of blood were making his actions sluggish and inaccurate. Three futile tries and several tantrums later Negaduck was ready to give up.

"FINE!" he finally yelled, slamming his fists on the surface in front of him, "We'll stop so Reggie can WHINE some more!" He pushed himself away from where he hand been sitting, practically stomping from the room.

Reggie couldn't help but be stung by the mocking way in which he said it. It wasn't like it was his fault that his fingers were currently pouring blood or healing at an impossible rate. An exasperated and overly dramatic sigh from Jack brought his attention to the still bouncy, impatient mallard next to him.

"Well that was a super fun waste of time," Jack said, huffing obnoxiously as he slung his custom guitar over his shoulder and skipped lazily from the room.

The mad giggling that accompanied Jack out the door made Reggie shudder with displeasure. He was starting to feel the drain of yet another emotionally and physically trying day. All that sounded appealing to the exhausted mallard at the moment was curling up in his room and never coming out.

Reggie's footing faltered slightly as he made his way from the recording room; he paused, placing his hand on the wall and using his guitar for support as he tried to stop the spinning in his head. The horrible feeling only seemed to spread as he stood still, trying to convince the shaking in his legs to stop. It took several painful moments for the sensation to pass. Reggie sighed heavily, putting a hand to his stomach to try and alleviate some of the agonizing stabs still coursing through his abdomen. He was really starting to question if his current vocation was really worth all the suffering. It took several moments for him to finally convince his feet to move, his bark-covered talons scraping against the ground as he did so.

Reggie was far too worn out to even notice the ever-watchful watery gaze that was focused on him. Bud sighed heavily as he watched the disoriented mallard trudge slowly towards the rooms. He couldn't deny the extreme urge to follow him, but he ignored the desire, watching instead until the sluggish mutant was completely out of sight.

Even after Reggie was long gone, Bud couldn't seem to stop staring after him. He sighed again, his watery dreads sagging in a strange external display of melancholy. Such deep thoughts always did spark his long buried depression. He suddenly found himself lacking the will to even keep his form. His water slipped with augmented slowness to the ground, allowing him to make his way to the solitude of his room as little more than a living, creeping puddle.

Bud spread himself lazily across the hard floor, his liquid frame sipping across the marble tiles in an almost lethargic manner. He sighed heavily, staring absently at the ceiling. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't get a certain mutant mallard out of his head. He groaned, turning on his side and reaching out for a nearby bottle of alcohol that he had abandoned by his bed the night before. Moments before the bottle reached his muzzled Bud was stopped by his thoughts yet again. He sighed heavily, letting the glass container fall from his hands onto the floor. For the first time in a long time he knew drinking would just make his mood worse. Bud didn't even notice when the liquor pouring from the now tipped bottle started to seep into his water, only the distant, fuzzy sensation of the alcohol melding with his form gave any warning that the fluid was present at all.

It was hours before the uncharacteristically sullen water dog finally moved, roused only when a quiet sound split the heavy silence around him. He jumped slightly as the soft, and notably timid, knock sounded at his closed door. Bud cocked an eye at the black, poster-covered entry, undeniably curious as to who would be knocking at his door at 5 am. Couldn't be Jack or Negaduck, they never knocked, and the only reason Elmo usually showed up was because he forgot where his own room was. Deep down, he already knew who it was.

Bud opened the door almost hesitantly, shuddering slightly at the obnoxious creak let out by its slightly rusted hinges—metal never did fare well around him. He was hardly surprised to find Reggie on the other side of the heavy door.

The exhaustion was plain on the mallard's face; the dark circles under his eyes were growing and his whole frame was slumped more than usual. Through the darkness shrouding the corridor Bud could just see Reggie's shaking hands. He winced internally at the blood-saturated bandages; he couldn't help but notice that the wounds seemed even worse than earlier: A sign that he had been spending the last few hours trying to keep them from healing. Even after the door was fully open Reggie didn't look him in the eye. There was a painfully obvious amount of discomfort in his demeanor. His downcast stare and wringing hands were only the most obvious of signs. Bud opened his mouth, about to say something before he was cut off by Reggie.

"I need your help." The statement was brief and concise, laced with a poorly hidden urgency.

Bud blinked at the shifting bassist, flowing his arm behind him to close the door as he left. Reggie didn't say anything; he just turned away from the dripping dog pulling his coat around him for comfort. Bud watched him go for a moment as he led the way down the dimly lit hall. What the hell am I in for this time?

He followed Reggie out to the main hall- the Devil Room as it was more affectionately known- watching as he sat down in front of the substantial fire burning in the massive hearth. Bud simply watched him for a moment, slipping silently into the large couch just in front of the fireplace.

"The fire's the only way I can think of to fix it," Reggie finally said into the silence.

"Fix what?" Bud asked softly.

The glow from the fire spread a soft light across Reggie's face as he turned his head over his shoulder so he could see the drummer. "My hands," he whispered, lifting the bandaged appendages into the firelight, "I burned one with my cigarette hours ago it hasn't healed."

He dropped his hands back into his lap, staring dejectedly at the wounded digits. After a moment he stared back into the flames before him once again, hiding his face from the dog.

Bud's expression fell as he watched the other. It wasn't hard to discern Reggie's plan. He slipped gracefully from the couch flowing gently to join the other by the fireside. His water crept up next to Reggie flowing mesmerizingly into the air as Bud reformed himself. From his new position he could once again see the plant-duck's face. He was difficult to read as usual when he got like that, hiding behind his emotionless guise. He didn't react to the other's presence outside of producing another cigarette which he lit by pulling one of the small sticks from the hearth.

Bud regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, glancing momentarily at the fire. "What do you want me to do?" he asked softly as he brought his gaze back to the mallard.

Reggie took a deep drag from his cigarette, letting it out slowly as he prepared himself for his answer. "Just go find me a large knife. I'm sure there's one nearby," he replied finally, never looking away from the flames before him.

Bud nodded curtly before allowing his form to disintegrate once again so that he could flow quickly along the ground in search of his query. As Reggie had noted, the search didn't take long. Negaduck always had a collection of knives littering the house. He only carried those he favored with him at all times.

He returned quickly to the far end of the room where Reggie was currently removing the wrappings slowly from his injured leaves. The aggravated wounds were a sickly black color, encrusted with dried blood from the constant attempts to keep them separated. "Give me the knife," he said holding one of his stained hands out to the dog as the other flicked his already expended smoke into the fire.

Bud held the knife out to the other handle first, gripping the blade tightly as Reggie tried to pull it away in order to gain his attention. Reggie shifted his eyes slowly, forcing them to look at Bud. The dark pools of the other's eyes stared at him harshly, strong questions behind his look.

"You sure about this?" he asked seriously.

"No. But if you think I'm slicing my hands open one more goddamn time you're insane," Reggie replied, equally serious.

Bud only hesitated a moment before relinquishing the large blade to the bassist. Reggie shoved the knife deep into the extensive supply of red hot coals within the metal confines of the fireplace. He leaned back against the hard table behind them, new cigarette already smoking, waiting for the weapon to heat. The dog beside him crossed his liquid legs, sitting back to watch as the other smoked. Reggie was starting to grow irritated at the constant scrutinizing.

He shifted nervously under the gaze, quickly growing unable to ignore the other. Reggie never did like being stared at.

"What?" he finally snapped, wrapping his arms around himself in a grasp for comfort.

Several long moments without a response finally coaxed Reggie into looking enough over his shoulder so that he could see the drummer beside him. Even through the dark Reggie could see the sympathy in Bud's stare, but that was hardly what was so irresistible about seeing the other in the firelight. The pale orange light reflected off the sparkling liquid of his form, dancing across the constantly flowing water in an unusually stunning display. Reggie could spend a century with the canine and probably understand only a minute portion of the man concealed beneath that churning surface.

Reggie swallowed thickly as he turned his gaze back towards the fire, all thoughts of producing an answer from the drummer long gone. Timid fingers reached into the hearth, pulling gently at the large knife still nestled in the coals. The gentle red glow that was now painted upon the blade's surface was almost mesmeric. Reggie tried his best to ignore the thoughts of what came next.

He didn't even notice when Bud slipped silently closer, flowing gracefully forward to sit beside him. Reggie was only mildly aware of his presence. His face was glazed over in an emotionless guise, hypnotized by the glowing knife in his hand. The strange spell continued until the cooling sensation of Bud's hands slipped over his, stealing the blade away with a surprising amount of tenderness.

Reggie finally snapped out of his stupor, yanking his hand away from the liquid appendage that still lingered on it. Bud paid the action little mind. He glanced down briefly at the blade now clenched in his hand before returning his gaze to meet Reggie's face. The other still wouldn't look him in the eye.

"How do you want me to do this?" Bud questioned gently, his voice barely a whisper in the massive room.

Reggie swallowed around the dry feeling in his throat, finally forcing himself to meet Bud's questioning stare. "Just… just press them both against it at the same time. I am NOT doing this more than twice!" Reggie replied, his voice faltering at the thought of allowing the other to burn his already throbbing hands.

Bud nodded gently. Stroking his dripping fingers softly along the delicate leaves; for the first time, Reggie didn't resist the touch. Bud held the leaves on both sides so that he could press them together. He paused just before forcing the trembling fingers to contact the hot metal, bringing his focus to the gently shivering bassist.

The pain was indescribable. Mere moments after the searing blade had contacted the already wounded fingers; Reggie yanked his hand from the cool grip of the other. He was completely unaware of what was going on around him as he pulled away from the source of his anguish. His own screams went unheard by him as he withered in pain, trapped in his own painful reality. As the agony finally began to let go, he registered Bud's face above him and the muffled sounds of his voice. Reggie couldn't tell what he was saying. He shook his head harshly at the other, trying weakly to push him away.

Bud grabbed him roughly, forcing the thrashing duck's back against his chest so that he could hold him against his cool water. Reggie panted coarsely; head craned upward and teeth clenched in pain. As the mallard's jolting body began to quiet its movements, the drummer behind him shifted one of his arms to grip him tightly in case he moved again as the other formed beneath the tormented leaf that the other was clutching to his chest. Reggie didn't resist as the throbbing appendage was pulled into the cooling waters of the others digits.

His bill parted in relief as the soothing effect of the water sunk in. A shaky sigh slipped quietly from his beak as he pulled his head from its resting place on Bud's shoulder. His gaze focused blurrily on the place where the other was pushing gentle streams along his quivering hand. He groaned miserably, lifting himself from the drummer's form. He moved on shaking legs, ignoring the question from the band member behind him as he shoved the still warm knife back into the fire.

"Just do the other one before I lose my fucking nerve," he said through chattering teeth, staring at him with weary eyes.

Bud took pity on the despondent duck, pulling him wordlessly back into his grip to keep him from jumping across the room this time around. Reggie remained quiet, ignoring the other as he yanked the knife from the coals and pressed it quickly between the fingers on his other hand. He couldn't stop the screams that inevitably came at the contact. Wooded heels scraped desperately against the ground as he tried to move away from pain he couldn't escape. The blade fell to the floor with a clatter as Bud gripped both the bassist's hands as best he could in attempt to keep the other under control.

Reggie sunk his teeth into his bottom bill, muffling his cries to a mere echo of what they were. He continued to fight weakly against the liquid arms surrounding him. Small droplets of concentrated water slipped through the tightly clenched corners of his eyes, painting wet trails down his heated cheeks. Bud's chest grew heavy at the sight: he couldn't help but feel sorry for the suffering duck.

He held the other tightly until the thrashing stopped and blue eyes began to droop with exhaustion. Reggie's entire body was suddenly limp in his arms, drained of every ounce of energy he'd spent trying to fight off the pain. Bud grasped him in his arms as gently as he could; taking care to keep Reggie's shaking fingers submerged in his water as he lifted him off the floor. He could barely tell if Reggie was still awake, his long bangs obscuring his face.

Either way Bud knew he wouldn't be conscious long. He wasted little time in returning Reggie to the safety of his room. Although he didn't say it, Reggie was grateful for the swiftness. A soft, shaky groan passed his bill as Bud sat him in the large bed, helping him remove his coat before he laid himself gingerly against the mattress. He was barely conscious of what the other was doing around him, but he didn't resist when Bud started wrapping his still shaking fingers back in bandages.

"You uh… need anything?" Bud asked once he had finished— the sudden discomfort quite apparent in his voice. He rubbed at the back of his neck nervously when Reggie didn't answer right away.

Reggie's nod was very brief and barely visible. "Cigarette," he said, his horse voice barely above a whisper.

Bud's mouth twitched into a slight smile at the single word. It was somehow comforting that Reggie was not in so much pain that he could ignore his need for nicotine. Bud slipped his hand into the long coat's pocket, quickly fishing out the pack and lighter. He shook the box to allow one of the cigarettes to protrude far enough that the other had access to it. He had to remind himself that grabbing one out for the bassist would only ruin the smoke. Reggie took the cigarette with trembling fingers, placing it in his bill and allowing the other to light it for him.

Reggie gazed distantly across the room, content to sit in the mutual silence; it was obvious that he was pretty out of it. Bud just sat there for several long moments as the disoriented mallard smoked. As the cancerous stick started to come to the end of its life, it quickly became apparent that Reggie was having a hard time remaining conscious. Bud stared at the other in contemplation for a moment, his look of lament painfully obvious to anyone who would care to try and see it. He sighed softly as he slipped from the chair, making his way towards the door.

"Bud."

The quiet voice prompted his attention back to the groggy bassist, staring into the other's exhausted eyes through the darkness. He slid slowly closer to the bed, his nonexistent heart pounding in his chest. "Yeah Reg?"

Reggie just stared for a moment, the cigarette threatening to fall from his beak as he gazed at the dripping dog. He could hardly concentrate through his own hazy thoughts but he owed the other something at least. "Thanks," he finally said eyes already slipping closed as he slid into unconsciousness. Despite his exhaustion, the sincerity in the statement was not lost on Bud.

A small, cockeyed smile painted his face as he moved closer to the nearly sleeping bassist in order to catch the still burning cigarette before it fell to Reggie's bare chest. His water quickly soaked into the thin paper, extinguishing the burning end with a soft sizzle. The helpful action was lost on Reggie; his mind already captured by the oblivion of sleep.

Reggie's unconscious state allowed for the first real chance Bud had had to observe him since his transformation. The lavender strands looked irresistibly soft. He couldn't resist the sudden need to touch it. Wet fingers shifted through the soft, purple mass, the contact sending an odd sensation through his liquid frame. Bud doubted that he would ever get tired of the strange tingling that was produced when his water contacted the plant-like skin. He almost smiled at the way Reggie shifted into the gentle touch. It was a strange treat to see the other with his guard down. No masks or false feelings, just Reggie. Perhaps he wasn't so hard to read after all.

"Any time Reginald. Any time."


	6. The Escape

Bud hated being bored.

He had been slipping absently through the manor's corridors for hours now and he was starting to go stir crazy. After the annoyingly unproductive previous day, Negaduck had demanded quiet the next morning. It was never a good idea to get on his bad side on a day like that. Jack and Elmo were currently occupied with a video game, which was never somewhere he wanted to be when Jack was involved, and Reggie had been banished to his room until he knew at least the first half of their new album by heart.

The dripping drummer was currently faced with an annoying lack of things to do.

His aimless wandering eventually brought him past the band member rooms. The dim light in the hall was oddly soothing. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't even realize where he was until the soft sound of music filtered towards him. It wasn't a surprise once he noted where he had roamed to, but when Bud passed by the room that housed the bassist, what he heard was not a familiar tune.

Bud tilted his head curiously as he moved closer to the intriguing music. Through the slightly open door Bud could hear the soft sounds of Reggie's bass accompanied by a far more stunning and unexpected melody. It was faint, but through the deep tones of the guitar's strings he could hear the gentle sound of Reggie singing. The quiet baritone was somehow incredibly enchanting, and accompanied by the low music of the bass it was an impressively captivating sound. Bud slipped his head through the opening, observing the other silently. The gentle morning light forcing its way into the room was a stark contradiction to the dimly lit hall, illuminating the chamber's resident in a delicately beautiful manner. From his position by the door, it was quite apparent to the dripping drummer that Reggie was currently in his own world. Reggie was reclined lazily on the bed in an uncharacteristically relaxed fashion, smoldering cigarette hanging from his bill as he sang causing his smoke to dance entrancingly through the hazy rays of sunlight. Bud couldn't help but be somewhat impressed at how he managed to sing around the stick, taking drags every now and then. In front of him, a collection of music was spread out, the sheets littering the large bed and adding a cluttered feel to the surroundings.

Bud watched as new and still bandaged fingers slipped expertly across the heavy strings. He was undeniably amazed at the unique ways in which Reggie was using his thumbs to help compensate for being down a few fingers. It made his movements fascinating to watch. The captivated canine couldn't help but lean his body against the door frame, just watching as Reggie lost himself in his own music. The brief audition and painful modifications had kept them from really appreciating the extent of the mallard's talent, but Bud was quickly learning that Reggie was a lot better than any of them had probably realized.

Bud couldn't deny that he was disappointed when the song started to trail off, evidence that the self-conscious duck had finally realized that he was being watched. A blue eye angled to the side through purple bangs, affirming the mallard's suspicion that he was being observed. Bud was unable to control the toothy smile that crept across his face as the other focused his attention fully on him.

Reggie cocked a brow at the grin. "Yes Buddy?" he shot the drummer a confused look when the name caused the watery grin to extend.

"Hmm nothin'," Bud replied lazily, "Just bored." His body slipped fluidly from its position by the door as he moved further into the sun-saturated room. "You really have quite a voice there ya know."

Reggie didn't reply. His eyes sank in a self-conscious manner, shifting to the side and away from the watery canine. It was suddenly obvious that Reggie was considerably apprehensive around him at the moment. Bud hadn't considered how uncomfortable it would make his band mate to be so vulnerable in front of him as he had the night before.

He looked exhausted.

The silence stretched on as the insecure mallard resisted replying. Injured fingers danced slowly across the strings once again as Reggie tried to distract himself from the discomfort.

The action caught Bud's attention, prompting him to inquire about the recent modifications. "How those fingers treating ya?" he questioned, trying to keep the extent of his concern from his voice.

Reggie lifted a hand examining the bandaged fingers. "They hurt like a bitch," he paused to pull the cigarette from his mouth, nestling the stick between his two newly acquired digits. "But they make smoking a hell of a lot easier."

Bud chortled at the observation. "Funny you don't strike me as a look on the bright side kinda person."

"Cigarettes are my bright side," Reggie muttered in reply, a slight scowl settling on his face.

Bud tilted his head at the comment, his dripping ears and locks slipping to the side in a way that made Reggie feel oddly warm. There was something undeniably adorable in the action, something very much like a puppy tilting its head at a beloved owner. It made the bassist shift his eyes away again. He was too tired to deal with the inquisitive drummer at the moment.

That hardly deterred Bud from his sudden need to be in the other's presence. He was just bored. Or so he told himself. "Reggie," he said softly.

The mutant finally lifted his head to look at him fully once again. Bud cocked a watery brow at the sudden, wide-eyed expression that panted on the other's face. He shifted his gaze behind him to try and see what caused the abrupt change in behavior. He jumped slightly at the unexpected sight of the short mallard, recoiling somewhat at the harsh red eyes that were now focused menacingly on him. Reggie shrank back subconsciously at the other's entrance; he could swear just the sight of the singer made his fingers throb with the memories he elicited.

"Uh… what's up boss?" Bud finally said awkwardly.

"You," he growled, grabbing the drummer roughly by the collar and dragging him down to his level. "Come with me. You!" he continued, turning his narrowed gaze to the bassist, "Keep playing till your fucking fingers fall off." With a final snarl he dragged Bud from the room, black collar clenched between his shaking fist.

Reggie didn't quite know how to react to the scene he had just witnessed. He crept somewhat hesitantly to the door, pushing it open cautiously to peer down the dim hall. He sighed quietly in relief when he didn't see the others. Still sore fingers trembled slightly as he pushed the door open again. A strong feeling of entrapment had been nagging at him that entire morning and he wasn't sure he could handle the further sense of claustrophobia that the closed entrance caused. Even the tall balcony doors across the room were already wide open in an attempt to offer some relief from the unsettling feeling that had been growing in his chest. The hot breeze, humid and hazy with tainted air, did little to help his already ailing lungs, but he couldn't deny that he needed the small sense of freedom.

As the hours wore on his fingers began to burn from the continued abuse and the notes before him began to blur as his vision fatigued. He seriously needed to find something he was capable of eating otherwise he doubted he would be able to remain conscious. Finally he couldn't stand the confined space anymore. Negaduck orders or not he needed out. He slung his bass over his back, stretching his neck outside the door before slipping from the room.

He couldn't seem to stop his eyes from roaming nervously back and forth as he slunk down the hallway, blue eyes searching tensely for any possible danger. He half expected to see glowing red eyes staring him down after every turn. A strange sense of relief flooded over him as the dim passage gave way to the devil room; he tried desperately to ignore the disconcerting feeling that the room's large statue still provoked. Lucky for him the room's two residents provided more than ample distraction from the eerie figure.

"Gahhhh! That. Is. IT!" Jack yelled furiously, game controller shaking between his fists. "I quit! I quit, I quit, I QUIT! This game is no fun, AND it cheats!"

Elmo squealed in terror as the furious jester made to chuck the white controller at the massive flat-screen before them, launching himself at the mallard to rescue the two electrical devices before they suffered an unfortunate meeting. Jack growled in testament to his displeasure at his recent cybernetic defeat, his fists clenching and shaking slightly in his anger as he fumed at the big-screen.

"Jaaack you said you'd be good to me today," Elmo whined pitifully, a strangely fatigued and desperate edge to his voice.

"Fuck this! I don't care if you feel icky today Mo you can just play with your own damn self!" the volatile mallard yelled, stomping dramatically from the room, fists still clenched and back hunched in his childish fury.

"Awww you never wanna do what I wanna do," Elmo pouted softly as his angered companion left, sinking further into the couch cushions as he slumped miserably.

The depressed expression made it very hard for Reggie not to feel bad for the rodent; He looked awful. His slender frame periodically shook with harsh shudders and despite the dark glasses shielding his eyes from sight it was hard to ignore the fact that they looked sunken in and tired. It was as though his whole body was being racked by an invisible torment. The rodent's entire demeanor was a strange echo of Reggie's own making the bassist abnormally empathetic.

It took a few moments but the despairing rat finally caught sight of Reggie through the corner of his eye. A grin suddenly lit his features. "Heeeey, Reggie!" he cried happily, jumping swiftly and unexpectedly from his spot before the TV and running over to the shocked mallard still standing by the stairs. "You have fingers now!"

"Uhh, yeah. You remembered... I'm impressed."

"Will you play with me?"

Reggie blinked in slight disbelief at the question, more taken aback by the happy, childish way in which the guitarist said it than the request itself. He opened his mouth to decline, but somehow the pleading, hopeful look that Elmo conjured made it impossible for him to say no and add to the other's misery. Even if he probably would forget it minutes later. "Yeah, alright… But just one game."

It didn't take long for one game to turn into hours of being glued to the screen. Elmo was a crazy gamer but Reggie found it surprisingly entertaining to watch the rodent kick his virtual ass so expertly.

There were two things that he had learned about the rodent over the past few hours: he was markedly less obnoxious without his cackling, insufferable companion around, and he actually liked to smoke. Reggie wasn't sure why, but there was something comforting about having a fellow smoker around. He was starting to realize that he didn't mind the voltage junkie too much, although the rodent's choice in conversation definitely left something to be desired.

"So here I think I'm doing it with some fine electrical lady and it turns out I'm just fuckin' the toaster!" The rodent finally paused his mindless babbling to take a long hit from his smoke, playing one-handed for a moment as he slouched further into the couch cushions. "True story, didn't piss right for a month." Elmo's eyes narrowed in testament to his annoyance at the memory.

Reggie cocked a slightly disturbed brow at the rodent. Despite the briefness of the look, it was a sufficient distraction for Elmo to put a swift end to his electronic counterpart currently fighting within the TV's confines. Slightly annoyed eyes narrowed at the now dead character as Reggie threw his controller lightly to the side in favor of lighting a fresh cigarette.

Elmo laughed ecstatically as their latest round came to an end, cancerous fumes billowing from his nose as he snickered. "Fuck this is awesome! No one ever plays with me for this long!" He paused his sniggers to look at the smoking mallard beside him. "You're actually pretty good at this. You won five whole times!" He said it as though it was the most amazing thing ever.

Reggie shrugged flicking his cigarette against one of the many ashtrays that had been placed around the house since his transformation. "I might have been a video game tester briefly."

"Video game tester… how the hell'd you end up doing that?"

"I stole someone's identity and kinda got sucked into the part too much… it did not end well."

"Hmmm…. What'd you steal?"

Reggie shook his head at the rodent, his blank face hiding his slight amusement. "One more round Mo."

"Yaaaay! I am SO gonna kick your ass!"

"Oh I see. I spend the whole day in miserable torment waiting for you and you're out here talking about other guy's asses," an overly dramatic and pouty voice sounded from behind them.

Elmo tilted his head back to rest against the couch as he look up at the sulking mallard above him. "Heeey, hiya Jacky!" he said grinning stupidly.

"Don't you hiya Jacky me! When I storm off you're supposed to console me not sit around being gay with Reggie! And you're smoking!" he yelled snatching the smoldering stick from his friend's muzzle.

"Why the hell can't I smoke anyway?" Elmo whined in reply, watching in mild disappointment as the mallard forcefully put out his cigarette.

"Cause you have an addictive personality! And I refuse to have you and your cancer ruining my complexion all day long."

Elmo whined pitifully; he was in no condition to handle his friend's dramatic tendencies at the moment. "Jaaaack, I don't even remember what the hell you're talking about!"

The still slightly fuming mallard sighed obnoxiously in response. "I can never stay mad at you when you're like this," he paused to wrap his arms around the other's neck, stroking his bare chest playfully. "It's not fair."

Reggie cocked a brow at the pair as the conversation slipped into whispered, comforting talk. From what he could hear of what they were saying he was pretty sure he knew what was ailing the slender rodent. Not that he was about to say anything. He had to admit that he was happy when the resident drummer chose that moment to join them. The increasingly intimate display was starting to make him feel very uncomfortable.

The shifting crystal blue at the corner of his eye was all that alerted him to the drummer's presence; he was happy to even have that. Usually he never knew where or when the sly dog would show up. He immediately noted the weighted manner in which Bud was carrying himself. The slouching drummer looked strangely exhausted, his shoulders slumped and dreadlocks sagging as though weighed down by his suddenly depressed mood. Reggie stared curiously at the odd way in which his form seemed to be shuddering, a strange, trembling wave running through his entire body; if he didn't know better he would have thought the watery canine was in pain. It looked like it was turning out to be a pretty miserable day for all of them.

He was not alone. Just behind him, fists clenched and obviously fuming, was Negaduck. There was a collective feeling of tension amongst the room's occupants. They all knew they were in for another angry speech.

He stormed swiftly to the front of the room, staring them down furiously. "Everybody SIT DOWN! NOW!"

For once Jack just did as he was told, not even bothering to move around the couch to oblige. He pressed his palms on the back of the cushions to jump over the back of the dark furniture; it made for a far quicker compliance anyway. Elmo almost immediately pressed his cheek gently to the mallard's shoulder as he settled beside him. He needed the slight sense of comfort.

The despondent drummer that had been standing inconspicuously to the side slipped as quickly and obediently as possible to sit next to Reggie on the couch. The bassist shifted over to make more room as he saw the other coming. Questioning eyes fixed on the dripping canine. For once it was Bud's turn to avoid his gaze. He didn't even want to try and explain his current discomfort to the bassist. He pulled at the collar encircling his neck suddenly very tired of its presence. Reggie couldn't help but be curious at the action.

"Alright assholes listen up and listen good. I've been going over shit and there's gonna be some changes around here. FIRST of all, I'm tired of you all dicking around! We have very little time to get this done and as of now all of your parts have been revised."

The statement immediately elicited a collective groan from Reggie's band mates.

"SHUT UP!" Negaduck snapped harshly in reply. "Now all you whiny bitches listen to me and listen closely," the last word was growled, spoken harshly and backed by a serious tone. "You have all got a LOT of new shit to learn and YOU still don't know half the parts that have NOT been changed!" Negaduck finished at a yell, pointing an accusing angry finger at Reggie. "We have four months. FOUR MONTHS to get this damn thing finished! So we are on LOCKDOWN until further notice! No one leaves, no sneaking visitors in, and no FUCKING around! You will live and breathe metal until this is PERFECT!"

Although the rant continued, no one was quite willing to pay attention. None of them were happy to hear they had new stuff to learn and they were all quite engrossed with brewing over the news. Reggie was the only one who didn't seem to notice much. Considering he barely knew his parts as it was, little had changed for him. He was currently more concerned about the state of his own person. He was scarcely even aware of what was going on around him and the longer the speech stretched on the worse he fared. The hazy feeling that had been growing in his head since he woke was getting worse, and he was starting to have a hard time fighting it. With a nearly inaudible groan, he finally lost the battle with unconsciousness.

The abrasive bang produced as he hit the table in front of them caused the shuddering rodent beside him to jump harshly in shock. He cocked a curious brow at the unexpectedly unconscious mutant. "Uhhh… I think we just lost Reggie."

Negaduck's eye twitched erratically at the continued delay in his plans. "I hate bassists."

The fact that it was Bud that chose to aid the exhausted mallard only served to worsen his mood. He shot the dripping drummer a harsh glare as he moved to try and help the other. Bud swallowed thickly in response, retracting the arms that had extended to help his fellow mutant. His aid was not as necessary as he had expected anyway. The collision with the short table had been sufficient to wake the bassist from his disoriented state and he was already lifting himself back up. Reggie groaned, rubbing leafy fingers along his forehead as he tried to pull his exhausted body back into the conscious world.

"SO nice of you to join us again Reggie," Negaduck growled.

"Holy shit I need food," Reggie muttered, almost unaware that he was even talking to the singer.

"FOOOD! I SO vote for food," Jack cried, bouncing slightly on the couch and lifting his hand in the air as if it had actually been a vote. "Don't know what the hell you're gonna feed Reggie though. We ain't got any plant food here," he finished, snorting quietly at the slight pun.

"Can't we just… feed him dirt or somethin'?" Elmo offered.

Negaduck blinked irately at him in response. "THAT is… the smartest dumb thing you've ever said," the singer finished, his anger quieted somewhat at the surprising display of mental faculties for the rodent.

"Gee, thanks," Elmo muttered in reply.

"Alright fine, you are allowed to feed your filthy faces, but after that learn your fuckin' parts! And then we are gonna do a take!"

This time Reggie joined the collective groan. Negaduck's temple throbbed at the sound. His eye twitched as he rubbed at the throbbing vein in his head. "You know what? FUCK it! I am so done with you assholes. Enjoy your fucking day off! BUT LEARN YOUR PARTS!"

"What about the bassist? How we supposed to feed him?" Jack called at the retreating singer. "Not exactly a lot of plant dirt in this place."

"Let the fucking servants take care of it!"

Jack huffed slightly at the response, crossing his arms over his chest and flopping back against the couch cushions. "Great, now we gotta track down a fucking servant." He jumped from the plush sofa, reaching backwards blindly to grip at the cords hanging from his fellow guitarist's slim torso. "But in the meantime I'm hungry! And you are gonna eat too!" he snapped at the still shuddering Elmo as he pulled him to his feet by the black wires.

Elmo simply groaned in response as he was dragged away.

"Mm… I sure could use a drink," Bud finally spoke, concurring with the idea to move to the kitchen.

Reggie barely noticed as the watery canine slipped after the others. He groaned when they had all left, putting a bandaged hand around his midsection. He wasn't too fond of the idea of eating dirt but he sure hoped they found it quick because he had never been so hungry in his life and he was pretty much willing to try anything. With a final groan he finally lifted his lightly shaking body from the couch.

He followed slowly, dragging his feet and rubbing his stomach as he went. The brightness of the kitchen lights made him squint slightly from the drastic change. Through the large windows he could see that the sun outside had already started to set; he hadn't realized how late it was.

Bud was rifling through the many cupboards, collecting various bottle of booze and placing them together on the counter. From the looks of things he intended to spend his day off getting smashed. Jack had apparently tracked down one of the many underlings and was now barking ridiculously specific instructions for his food at him from his place at the table. Beside him his suffering companion was sitting with his elbows propped on the table and forehead resting in his hands. He was currently staring at all the revised music that had apparently been brought to them. The shudders still tormenting the rodent seemed to grow worse at the sight of the many sheets of changed notes. Whatever was wrong with him, it seemed to be getting worse.

Reggie finally moved further into the room, dropping his body uncouthly into the chair beside the oblivious rodent. Elmo paid him essentially no notice. The same could not be said for his boisterous companion. Jack's face lit up, impish grin spreading across his large bill as he noticed the other's presence. It was the first time that Reggie had really sat at the table with them and it was an undeniable source of delight for Jack.

He surely would have found some annoying way to lighten his mood if Elmo hadn't chosen that moment to have a breakdown. "ALL our songs have changed!" he suddenly yelled, gripping at his hair with both hands, the pace of his breathing starting to increase, "I'm never gonna learn all that shit in four months! Negs is gonna get all pissed and then I'm gonna get all fucked up!"

"Mo, MO!" Jack responded, grabbing the freaked out rodent by the shoulders and shaking him slightly, "Get ahold of yourself babes. I'll help you learn it."

Elmo dropped his head back whining dramatically. "I don't waaaanna!" After a moment of pathetic moaning, he sighed heavily, focusing his gaze back on his friend. "I need my guitar Jacky."

Jack snorted slightly at the drastic change in tone between the two sentences. "Yeah alright. YOU! Jerk who is not cooking me food, go get Mo's guitar."

Bud finally decided to join them as the second servant shuffled obediently from the room. He placed a ridiculous armful of different alcoholic beverages on the table as he sat, opening one immediately and taking a long drink from it. Reggie cocked a brow at the chugging drummer. The other two guitarists didn't seem to even notice. They were quite accustomed to the amount of alcohol Bud drank when he got in moods like that. Reggie shook his head slightly at the drinking canine, shifting quietly to rest his chin on the table so that he could clutch his suffering torso without the others noticing. One of them noticed.

It wasn't long before the servant that had been sent to retrieve Elmo's guitar from where he had left it in the other room. Elmo hugged the instrument briefly as it was handed to him, comforted somewhat by the presence of the beloved electrical item. He immediately began to pluck at the strings, sinking down in his chair with a sigh. The other servant began to set different plates of food before the two guitarists. In front of the excited jester and his companion they placed one thing in particular that Reggie would have preferred not to see. Sitting on shining silver plates were several outrageously-sized portions of mashed potatoes.

"Yay! Comfort fooood!" Jack practically sang, clapping his hands childishly at the mass of lumpy starch that had been placed before him.

Elmo merely sniffed his own portion distastefully, making a small noise of disgust and sticking his tongue out in response to the food. Neither of them noticed the sudden look of repulsion that had painted itself all over a certain mutant mallard's face. Elmo shoved his plate in front of the currently wide-eyed bassist absently before returning his attention to his continuous string plucking. Reggie wasn't sure whether it was a silent offering or just an absentminded dismissal of the food but either way the response it elicited was almost immediate.

His chair legs scrapped harshly against the ground as he jolted from the seat, standing and backing urgently away from the food. The obnoxious noise had been sufficient to gain him the attention of the entire table and when he finally managed to tare his attention away from the unwanted distress the potatoes represented he realized how stupid he must have looked. He finally convinced himself to look up at his gaping band mates. It was impossible to miss the blatantly amused expression behind Jack's look.

"Leeaving us so soon Reginald?" he queried, wiggling his brows obnoxiously at him.

"Oh there has GOT to be an interesting story behind that one," Bud noted, amused smirk slipping across his face for the first time since his little meeting with Negaduck.

"Well there isn't," Reggie replied huffily, crossing his arms over his chest. His stance did little to aid his claim.

"Riiiight," Jack interjected.

"Look, I just… don't like potatoes," Reggie said lamely.

"I'll say, damn," Jack cackled. He shoved a finger into the mount of starch in front of him, swirling the digit to collect some of the mass. "You sure you don't want some spud stud?" he questioned sensually, licking his long tongue up the finger to lap the potato away.

Reggie shuddered disgustedly at the sight, turning from the table and making his way to the balcony, body still shivering in repulsion as he went; he wasn't sure what made him more nauseous, the potatoes or the mallard still lapping at them. It was hard to ignore the insane cackles that followed him. He suddenly needed a smoke very desperately.

In fact he had five smokes, one right after another without even really thinking about it. He needed the solitude. He'd been trying to keep it hidden, but his fingers were really starting to hurt. His resolve finally broke without the threat of anyone seeing him. Soft groans of misery sounded into the night as Reggie flicked his latest cigarette over the balcony edge, getting rid of the stick so that he could hold his shaking hands to his chest as the pain spread. He curled the fingers together, quivering digits held tightly against each other in an attempt to ease the agony.

It didn't.

From behind him a certain drummer watched silently. It was fairly hard to tell from his position what exactly the bassist was doing, but his soft groans were enough to tell Bud that he was certainly in pain. He looked forlornly at the shivering mallard. Despite the risk of incurring Negaduck's wrath yet again, he had to do something to help.

His water shimmered in the waning light as he slipped silently towards the despairing mallard. The other didn't even notice the sopping form until Bud was practically right beside him. The abrupt and unexpected appearance provoked the usual response.

Reggie clutched at his chest, growling softly and glaring. He didn't even have to say anything that time to tell the fluid dog what he was thinking.

"I'm sorry," Bud chuckled, "I'm not trying to sneak up on you."

"Yeah well can you not try harder, you're driving me nuts," Reggie muttered through clenched teeth. It was hard to ignore the way he was still twining his fingers together in pain.

Bud's face fell at the sight of the shaking digits. "You know I could—" He didn't even have the chance to continue before the bassist shot him a warning glare. Bud's locks drooped miserably at the abrupt and silent dismissal. He knew Reggie just didn't want to feel weak but he couldn't help but feel rejected at the action. "You know it makes them feel better," he finally finished, his soft voice barely audible.

Reggie clenched his teeth harder, hands still stubbornly protected against his coat. He was having a difficult time denying them the relief. With a final glance to the kitchen to assure himself that the two obnoxious residents still inside wouldn't be able to see them, he finally gave in, relinquishing the quivering leaves to the drummer.

The deep tint spread across Reggie's face almost exactly on cue as the fluid slipped over his aching fingers. It actually would have helped him if the dripping canine hadn't taken them so tenderly. In spite of his awkwardness, Reggie couldn't control the quiet sigh of relief that fell from his bill at the cooling water. There was a peculiar curing quality to the drummer's form that normal water simply lacked. Reggie was really starting to wish that wasn't true.

Bud couldn't keep his eyes off the mallard's face. The look of relief softened his features making the moment suddenly very irresistible. Mixed with the tingling feeling the contact produced it was enough to distract the drummer from everything around him. He wouldn't have complained if the moment lasted for hours, but as usual it was far more fleeting than he would have preferred, a swift end being put to the serenity when a certain mallard decided to make an appearance.

"Oy, Bushy boo! They got your shit here! Heehheahhaha, get it? SHIT! Cause it's fertilizer!" The annoying chortling continued as Jack pulled his head back inside. Reggie could still hear it through the glass barrier separating them.

He yanked his hands abruptly away from the cool streams as the interruption registered, blush spreading more forcefully across his face as he realized the vulnerable position he had put himself in once again. He didn't even give Bud the chance to say anything before following swiftly after the animated rhythmist. Bud sighed, following dejectedly after the departing bassist. He was starting to really despise the emotional turmoil the flowery-mallard managed to keep putting him through.

Back in the kitchen, the still miserable rodent was now situated nearby the large sink, hunched over slightly and looking far sicker than he had previously. Reggie had a feeling it had something to do with the greasy, starchy masses of food still being made for the jester currently patting his back gently.

"Aww poor Mo Mo," Jack said, his voice a mix of comforting and teasing, "Wanna go back to playing your FILTHY video games?" Despite his obvious desire to make his playmate feel better, the shudders that ran down his spine at the suggestion attested to how badly he actually wanted to suffer more of the virtual anguish.

"Nooo I think I'll just hang out with the garbage disposal for a while," Elmo replied miserably, arms propped on the side of the sink as he tried to make his bent position more comfortable.

"Fine, suit yourself," Jack replied, his attention turning to the two mutants that had just reentered the manor. If only a certain bassist had noticed the mischievous grin that was suddenly being sent his way.

Reggie lowered himself back into the seat he had previously been occupying, resting his chin on his palms as the servant set about pouring the soil into a container for him. The somewhat repulsed feeling was difficult to ignore despite the fact that just the sight of the dirt suddenly made him want it very bad. He tipped his head at the tub of high quality potting soil that was placed at his feet.

"Uhh… thanks," he said awkwardly to the retreating servant. He never would get used to having people around to wait on him.

Timid feet pushed the soil under the table so that he could have better access to it without moving his position. It took more resolve than he expected to keep the pleasurable look off his face as he worked wooded toes deep into the nutrient rich dirt. The sensation was hardly what he had expected. He could almost feel the nourishment seeping through the vascular system of his lower half, spreading the life-saving sustenance through him in a way that was difficult to comprehend. Heavy lids fluttered closed as the feeling settled in his gut, soothing some of the horrible pangs of pain that had been ailing him all day.

The relief was fleeting, quickly being stripped away when a certain local annoyance decided to join him. He shuddered harshly, disgusted and mildly terrified expression crossing his face as Jack plopped into the chair beside him, one arm behind his back and one propped on the table to support his head as he stared at Reggie. The mutant's brow twitched when the other didn't say anything.

"What?" he finally snapped at the grinning mallard, annoyance plain on his face.

The answer was curt and undeniably unexpected.

"Potato!" Jack cried elatedly, smacking a previously concealed handful of mashed spuds into the irritated mutant's face.

Reggie cried out in shock and irrational terror at the unexpected facial. He jumped from his chair and rushed to the nearby sink as quickly he could with the potatoes obscuring his vision. Elmo had to practically jump to the side to avoid him, leaning back against the counter with a slightly amused smirk on his face. Despite his current discomfort, he couldn't deny his amusement at his friend's juvenile antics.

Jack cackled in satisfaction at the fearful and hilariously unbecoming reaction, giggling as the horrified mallard washed the lumpy mass from his face. "Oooh you are SO gonna regret letting me find out about THAT one Bushy," he said between snickers.

Reggie shuddered in response. How he wished that wasn't true.

A quick end was put to the momentarily lightened atmosphere in the room when a certain disgruntled singer decided to make his way into the kitchen. Reggie could see the rodent beside him shudder slightly at the other's entrance, prompting the bassist's gaze over his shoulder to see what had caused the tense in the room.

Negaduck's already irritated glare deepened in menacing quality as he regarded the others. "What?" he growled, challenging the stares, "I need my fucking coffee!" a string of displeased grumbles followed the menacing mallard as he made his way to the permanently filled coffee pot. "You!" he snapped at the nameless underling, still fiddling with Jack's food, "Go get my fuckin' drugs."

Just the sound of the word made Elmo shake violently. Things only got worse when the timid employee returned with several already-filled hypodermics.

Reggie could practically feel the form beside him tense with at the sight of the needle. The shudders returned with a vengeance as the suffering guitarist turned to face the sink again. Despite the move, it was painfully obvious that his eyes were still fixed intently on the unsettling reminder of his past. Elmo looked utterly ill as the mallard flicked the syringe and removed the air. His whole body lurched slightly at the sight, the soft retching sound he produced giving external display of his current discomfort. He put a trembling hand to his muzzle to quiet the noise, but it was already too late.

Timid eyes focused on the red gaze now staring through him. The evil grin and soft grunting laughs made him slink back, shifting until he was behind his now glaring companion that had since come to stand beside him, staring pitifully past Jack's red and black hat.

"What's the matter Sparky? Jonesin' for a fiiix?" Negaduck growled amusedly. The cruel laughs resumed when Elmo shuddered in response, shrinking further behind Jack as though to hide from his own desires. "Just like old times, eh?" He moved the needle as though to stick it in the veins at his arms, grinning evilly at the shaking rodent. Elmo didn't wait to see the result, taking off at a run from the room.

"ASSHOLE!" Jack spat, voice filled with an abnormal amount of malice.

"Oh, unknot your fucking panties!" Negaduck replied crossly, moving the needle from where it was pressed against his arm. "It's Tarodol," he continued wiggling the syringe as though to emphasize his point. "It's for my fucking migraines. It's like poppin' a thousand aspirin. He can shoot it up all he wants and he's not gonna get high." The singer leaned back against the chair as he finished, shoving the needle forcefully into his exposed thigh as he did.

Reggie could see the depth of rage clearly on Jack's face as he stood before the singer, hands clenched and shaking, teeth grit in a furious scowl. He'd never seen the jester so angry. For the first time, he saw him beyond words. Jack wanted nothing more at that moment than to tear the singer apart and Reggie saw it.

"You got somethin' to say Quack?" Negaduck questioned deeply, spitting the last word out as though it were dirt upon his tongue.

Reggie did his best to make himself as inconspicuous as possible as he slid past the snarling rhythmist, slinking back to the table to avoid the altercation he suddenly feared would happen. He could practically see Jack chewing on his tongue to keep his outburst at bay. Bud didn't react when the shocked bassist slipped into the seat beside him. He didn't blame the other for wanting to distance himself from the middle of the two enraged mallards.

Jack continued to clench his fists as Negaduck stared him down, his stance only easing slightly when the other duck stood, advancing on his taller band mate. With a final furious growl, Jack turned and stormed after his companion.

It was several long moments before Reggie finally pulled himself from the stupor that the scene produced. He took a moment to close the jaw he just realized was hanging open. He was starting to learn way more about his housemates than he was comfortable knowing.

He leaned subtly towards the drummer beside him, unable to deny the sudden need to inquire about the unsettling scene. "Is this… normal?"

Bud shrugged slightly at the question, still somewhat distracted by his own disconcerting feelings. "Oh we go through this every few months or so. Sometimes it's longer, sometimes it's shorter. But every now and then Elmo goes through a relapse phase. Gets the shakes real bad, eats even less than he already does, sometimes he even stops hooking up to his battery. Negs torments him for a while, Mo gets depressed and Jack gets all riled up." Bud paused for a moment "Then of course I get put on damage control so that Elmo doesn't get all suicidal and Jack doesn't go on a rampage."

"Funny I woulda figured Negaduck wouldn't give a shit."

"Mm normally no. But he'd never let Mo die. He can't afford to. He needs Sparks too much… that kid is his meal ticket ya know." Just as he said it Bud caught sight of Negaduck's glare. He quickly slipped away from the bassist, showing that he'd caught the message that he was talking too much. The subtle scene did not go unnoticed by Reggie. He cocked a confused brow at the silent obedience Bud exhibited. How does he get you to be so cooperative? He thought curiously.

The obviously irritated singer continued to glare as the silence between the two stretched on.

Bud rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably under the stare. "Something tells me that is our cue to leave," he muttered to the bassist beside him.

"I could so not agree more," Reggie replied quietly following the drummer's lead out of the kitchen. "I have…" he trailed of regarding the small clumps of mashed potato still clinging to his floral hair as they made their way back to the upper level, "never needed a shower so badly in my life," he finished, shuddering slightly.

The air was heavy between them as they made their way towards the rooms. Without the distraction of the other band members, it was becoming increasingly difficult for them to ignore their respective discomforts. Bud's liquid eyes finally shifted to the brooding bassist beside him, the gaze prompting Reggie to turn his head away from the stare.

Bud sighed in response. "Tell me you're not planning on doing anything stupid."

"Don't insult me," Reggie muttered in reply, pulling a cigarette roughly from his pack.

"Look, whatever's messing with your head right now just… just don't go anywhere Reggie. When he finds you, and he will, you know he's gonna hurt you." The look he gave Reggie was filled with regret. "And believe me, it won't be pleasant."

"Just STOP!"

The furious scowl Reggie sent him in reaction was not what Bud expected. He swallowed thickly at the continued glaring. "Who the hell appointed YOU my personal guard dog anyway?" the fuming mallard continued; it was becoming increasingly obvious that Reggie was currently having a bit of an internal break down.

Before Bud could even offer an answer, the door to Reggie's room, which the flowing drummer hadn't even noticed had been placed between them, was slammed in his face. He blinked stupidly at the barrier, mouth open and mind baffled.

Why do you care so much? The thought prompted the sopping dog to pace back and forth down the dark hallway. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't seem to convince his body to venture very far from the bassist's room. Why did he care so much?

Within the secluded confines of his room, Reggie leaned back against the now closed door, sighing heavily and letting his dying cigarette to fall to the ground uncaringly. He knew the water-dog wasn't really what was bothering him so much, but he had to admit he made a convenient victim for his current frustration. Plus there were other feelings the dripping mongrel elicited that he would prefer not to admit to and imposing his anger on the drummer made him feel at least a bit better.

He practically stormed to his bathroom, removing his black coat as he went. He couldn't help the shudder that ran through him at the loss of the fabric. He never could get over the exposed feeling that always plagued him without its presence.

Inside the lavished lavatory, Reggie regarded the large shower for the first time. Still quivering fingers removed the bandages on his hands before he slipped into the glass-encased confines of the shower. He sighed heavily as he twisted at the embellished, metal knob that would bring the faucet to life. The fuming mutant's sour mood was already falling into one of his more usual mentally stressed states and the thought of washing his burdens away was suddenly very appealing. He almost moaned at the water that resulted from the twisting. Reggie couldn't remember the last time he'd had a warm shower. For the first time since he had joined the ranks of the fearsome five, he let his guard drop. He held trembling fingers beneath the water, adjusting the temperature so that it was cool enough to not make his leafy-digits burn more. His eyelids slipped closed as he soaked in the relieving streams. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't convince himself that it was as good as a certain watery-canine's. A soft and half-hearted growl sounded at the thought. He tried desperately to ignore the way his fingers seemed to quiver with the desire for more of the mongrel's contact. Little did he know that his thoughts mirrored the unknown presence that had been observing him.

Bud didn't know what exactly had prompted him to apologize to the bassist right at that moment, but he quickly regretted it. The one thing he noticed immediately was that Reggie hadn't bothered to close the glass door that would hide him from view. Bud couldn't tell if he wished he had or not. Either way he couldn't deny the immense enjoyment he got out of the unwitting show the other provided. The warm water was streaming down the bassist's smooth, green chest in a manner that was erotic to Bud in a way that would be difficult for him to explain to someone of a more solid persuasion. His whole body trembled at the way Reggie's damp mess of long hair framed his face, small rivers of water slipping down his closed eyes and slightly open beak. Bud shuddered at the sight. For the first time in his watery life he knew he'd be blushing if it wasn't for his liquid form. He put a startled hand to his cheek as though he could feel the pink tint that should have been there. It was warm. In fact, his entire body was warm, even bubbling ever so slightly. Watery locks shook frantically as Bud shook his head, slipping quickly from the room and away from the bathing bassist.

Luckily for him, his turmoil went unnoticed by the plant-duck still soaking in the relieving waters. Reggie was far too absorbed to notice the sparking, liquid figure retreating into the shadowy hallway.

The unsettling feeling of entrapment had returned with a vengeance. Thin arms wrapped around his midsection as he resisted the urge to hyperventilate. He hadn't quite realized how hard he had been focusing to keep the anxiety attack at bay. Even the brief lapse in his concentration had been sufficient to elicit a panic. Shaking fingers gripped blindly at the faucet, halting the streaming water as he slipped from the glass-enclosed shower. Purple locks shook erratically as he paced around the oversized bathroom, injured fingers twining in the strands to pull at his hair.

"Four months trapped in this place with… them! Why did I think I could do this. There's no way I'm gonna make it that long!"

The random rant stopped as the mutant mallard tried to pull himself together. The harsh grip he'd had on his hair had made his fingers sting horribly again and his mood was only worsening as the agonizing moments passed.

His thoughts turned to Bud as he remembered the warning to stay put. Blue eyes narrowed irately at the warmth the other seemed to bring to his cheeks; he couldn't stop the embarrassment that thoughts of the water-dog elicited. A furious growl sounded in response to the unwanted feelings, prompting the rebellious streak buried within him to show itself. He tipped his head over ruffling his leafy hands through his hair rapidly to remove the bulk of the water before grabbing his coat and hastily covering his still damp form in its comforting shroud.

He grabbed three fresh packs of cigarettes and stuffed them in his pockets as an afterthought as he made his way to the still-open balcony doors. A brief look over his shoulder was the only indication he gave of his uncertainty before slipping to the edge of the balcony.

"Sorry Bud," he muttered into the dark, "but I gotta get out of here."

It was a slow trip to the ground, the massive nature of the building making it a task to scale. Sore fingers struggled to find places to hold as he made his way down the manor's side, slim arms trembling slightly at the exertion. As he made his way past the main levels, the once whispered sound of torment-ridden screams grew louder and louder. He tried to tell himself that he couldn't hear the cries.

Once his roots safely touched the ground, it was only mildly difficult for Reggie to make his way through the inky alleyways. His many years on the streets made it easy to navigate the darkened roads undetected despite the hundreds of fans still partying. The trip was aided by his black coat and the many abandoned houses littering the city. It didn't take long for Reggie to slip past the city's twisted confines and into the dark edges of the polluted metropolis. He wasn't sure exactly where he planned to go, but only the distant badlands offered any semblance of safety, drawing him inexplicably into the darkened woods.

Back in the towering manor, Bud was still brooding over a certain unsettling, yet horribly sensual scene. He couldn't even think straight. He hardly even noticed when he reentered the kitchen, the quick nature of his trip making the journey almost too short for him to comprehend. Bud sighed heavily, slipping into one of chairs by the heavy table and resting his chin forlornly on the table top. He sat that way for several moments before growling angrily and lifting his head.

"This is NOT anything special," he told himself, banging a watery fist against the surface in front of him. "This is just a sex thing. He's hardly the first bassist you've wanted to fuck. He's just like any of the others!"

But he wasn't.

Bud sighed again, putting his face in his hands and moaning pitifully for a moment. "What the hell have you gotten yourself into Buddy?" he mumbled forlornly.

It was a few moments before he registered the feeling that he was being watched. He finally tilted his head, moving his hands off his face slightly to investigate. A rather dumbfounded Elmo met his gaze, standing in the doorway with a brow cocked at him.

"You uhh… talkin' to yourself there Bud?" he finally questioned, a slight edge of amusement to his voice.

Bud blinked stupidly for a moment, straightening his form in the chair. After he got over the shock of being caught having a breakdown, he realized that he was actually quite lucky that it had been Elmo that walked in on him. It wouldn't be too hard to get out of it.

"Why the hell are you coming in here talking crazy Mo," he finally retorted.

"What?" was the confused reply.

"What?"

"…Huh?"

"That's what I thought."

"Are you trying to confuse me?"

"Depends… You remember what we were talking about?"

Elmo blinked at this, scratching under his chin as he thought hard. "You know… I don't even remember why the hell I came in here." The light bulb that suddenly went off in the fried mind was painted all over the rodent's face. "Bud!"

The drummer shook his head at the young band member. "Yes Mo?" he replied.

"Uh I think the bassist is gone. Might wanna go get him before Negs finds out," he finished distractedly, pointing a gloved thumb over his shoulder."

"What?" Bud yelled, his slight bemusement and depression erased in an instant as he moved quickly from his chair, practically pinning a now terrified Elmo to the wall behind him. "Where?"

"I don't know dude!" Elmo sputtered, a slightly horrified edge to his voice.

Bud moved even closer, pressing his hands on either side of the shaking rodent. "Well what the hell happened?"

"Two foot rule!" Elmo squeaked at the increase in the already unsettling proximity.

"Screw your two foot rule! Tell me what you know!"

"Look I just saw him go out the window!"

"God damnit!" Bud snapped, slipping away from the terrified rodent without another thought, much to Elmo's relief.

The trip was quicker than usual, Bud's hope to catch the other before he left hastening his pace. He couldn't claim surprise when he found the room empty. The open doors gave hint enough to where the missing bassist had gone. For a moment he considered just not going after him.

He sighed heavily and wearily at the voice of reason that told him that it was never going to happen. "Why do you put me through this shit Reggie?" he muttered.

Bud slipped his fluid form out the window without another thought; the fall was hardly capable of killing him. He had a hunch he knew where the unstable mallard was going. He only hoped that he could find him before a certain homicidal singer did.


	7. The Forest

The night air was bitter and unforgiving: a harsh contradiction to the humid day that had preceded it. Pale streams of moonlight slipped through the dense thicket of departed trees, painting a peculiar configuration of scattered rays along the barely visible figure darting through the decaying foliage.

The heavy breathing that accompanied Reggie through the frigid night gave external evidence of his aching chest. His feet were stained with mud and scratched from impacts with the mess of mangled roots twisting along the ground beneath him, yet he couldn't convince his legs to stop running.

He fell for the third time in the past few minutes. Unlike previous falters, this one left Reggie exhausted and panting on the cold ground, his body completely incapable of holding him up anymore. After a few long moments he finally raised his shaking frame, leaning against a nearby tree for support as he lit one of his cigarettes. "How do I get myself into this shit?" he questioned into the darkness.

Only the wind answered.

The pace of his heart gradually slowed as the minutes passed, the opaque smoke mixing with his visible breath as it diffused through the cold air. Even after the burning cigarette was long gone, Reggie sat quietly in the dim forest trying desperately to regain some of his strength. He was so absorbed in trying to stop the trembles running through his thin frame that he barely even noticed the distant sounds coming from the depths of the forest before him, but the strangeness of the collective noise was enough to put him on guard.

The moon above was shrouded in inky darkness, the clouds surrounding it and obscuring all but the most determined of its shining rays. The faint light barely lent the ability to see through the veiled trees, but the noise sparked an undeniable curiosity in the shivering mallard that made him strain to see through the dark. The soft sounds grew clearer making it obvious that it was getting closer. Whatever it was.

Despite the darkness, Reggie could soon see a faint shadow moving languidly nearer to him. The movement quickly turned Reggie from curious to terrified. He backed frantically away only to have his path blocked by another of the many tall, dead trees. The clouds covering the moon's light finally gave way to allow the soft rays to illuminate the dead forest. Reggie couldn't help the gasp that escaped his bill at the sight before him. As unbelievable as it seemed, a small tree had apparently uprooted itself and was now walking slowly closer, green and newly growing branches reaching out for him. The soft trembles continued to course through Reggie's body, but despite the oddness of the situation, he was not really afraid of the small shrub. There was a certain kindness in its demeanor, a desperate longing for loving contact and yet a show of comfort for his own pain at the same time. The quivering bassist wasn't sure what made him do it, but he soon found himself reaching out towards the living plant with timid fingers, his back still pressed against the great tree behind him.

As the small, leafy being came closer, Reggie started to notice a massive stirring of life all around him, a surge of gneiss in the long dead landscape that was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He could feel the revival and hear the sounds of their stirring. Blue eyes widened at the fait whispers suddenly sounding in his head. His terror returned, causing him to drop his outstretched hand and back uncouthly away from the foliage in front of him. The desperate words inside his head grew stronger and clearer at his fear. Reggie pressed his hands against the sides of his head in a vain attempt to block out the sounds he could not escape.

The exhausted mallard trembled severely, trying to ignore whatever words were being said to him. "Get out of my head!" he yelled miserably into the darkness, shaking his petal-adorned skull in a vain attempt to remove the voices. He forced his shaking legs to carry him at a run further into the woods, but no matter how hard he tried the jumbled whispers of a hundred new lives were proving very hard to ignore.

Reggie ran until his feet could no longer carry him, collapsing at the edge of a familiar clearing. His chest quivered with every painful breath, small drops of sweat falling from his brow. When he finally looked up to the structure in front of him, he had to laugh slightly at the place he had decided to collapse. I would end up here.

The decrepit greenhouse almost seemed to murmur his name, adding to the jumble of noise already in his head. Unsteady legs carried him slowly through the broken glass, taking him back into the dark room where his life had changed forever. He slipped slowly into the comforting space, walking slowly to keep from falling over. Among the many shadowy shapes in the long abandoned hothouse, Reggie could just make out the departed vegetation that filled the space. The surrounding dry plants somehow added a level of comfort to the dark room. Near the back of the glass-encased sanctuary, Reggie found a secluded little corner shielded by a circle of foliage. He curled up in the dirt, wrapping his arms around himself and pulling his knees to his chest as he tried to disappear into his coat. It took only a few moments for Reggie to slip into an uneasy sleep. The lapse in consciousness kept him from noticing the flurry of movement around him as he drifted off.

In a distant corner of the same woods, a watery figure slipped fluidly through the trees.

The rate at which Bud swept through the forest kept him from noticing the recent regrowth in the surrounding plants. Or detecting the way they fed off his water. Even with his speed the trip took a while, the vast expanse of trees adding to his journey. He didn't like how much time he had to think as he traveled. The thoughts were unsettling.

Before long he could see a light through the thinning trees. He slowed as he reached the clearing that housed his destination. He stopped to stare only briefly at the now lit building. Reggie had obviously found his way back to the light box since he had been there. Bud couldn't help growling slightly as he reached the tall doors. Thanks to this little stunt they were both probably going to be in for a very shitty night. The dripping dog was suddenly extremely annoyed at his increasingly high-maintenance companion.

"God damnit Reggie!" Bud barked as he sloshed his way into the greenhouse, "Didn't I tell you to… stay in the…" he trailed off as he fully absorbed his surroundings. All around him an explosion of green and color was sprouting up through the brown husks. Bud didn't even notice his jaw drop at the sight, his previous anger lost in the awe of the moment as he processed the sight before him. It had been a long time since he'd seen anything like it. He scanned the building, eyes finally falling on an out-of-place addition to the foliage.

It took a moment for him to even assure himself that it was Reggie, the lack of the black coat making him far less conspicuous among the growing flora. Bud couldn't stop himself from taking in the others bare form, his eyes captivated by the delicate and unique curve to his spine as they slipped down the slender form to land on the tail leaves that were now visible. It was the first time he'd really been able to appreciate them. A familiar heat returned to his body.

It wasn't long before Reggie started slipping his slightly tattered coat back on, obviously aware of the other's stares. Bud swallowed thickly, flowing closer to the hunched mallard. "Did you… do this?" he questioned, the disbelief evident in his voice as he gestured to the newly revived vegetation.

"Did you see any plants in here last time Bud?" Reggie questioned, sending a halfhearted glare over his shoulder.

"Well, no…"

"Then I think it's pretty safe to say that they have something to do with me."

"Yeah, I suppose so."

Bud could see the other begin to shift uneasily under his gaze. As the silence stretched on, Reggie finally moved from his secluded position. His liquid cohort watched as the fidgety plant-duck moved around the greenhouse, fiddling with the various plants to avoid the drummer's stare. Bud followed, slipping his fingers along the foliage as he went. Reggie was mesmerized at the way the plants grew at the touch, a collective jumble of happy chatter sounding in his head. It seemed he wasn't the only plant around that liked the water. He still couldn't make out one voice over another. It was like being in a crowded room and not being able to filter one conversation from those surrounding it. But despite the slight headache it gave him, the relief and pleasure of his fellow plants filled him with a warm sensation that was difficult to deny and the closest to happiness that he had felt in years. He shuddered fleetingly at the sensation. He suddenly wanted to just stay there forever and hide from Negaduck's wrath.

Bud could see it written all over his face. He wasn't sure how long he just let Reggie walk about the greenhouse, running his fingers along the plants, but he couldn't seem to quite bring himself to make the other leave. Eventually the lights began to flicker, coaxing Reggie's blue eyes upward. It didn't take long for them to give one more valiant surge before they died.

The sight of his band mate bathed in the pale light was enough to send a wave of heat through him once again. He wished he could let Reggie stay forever.

"We need to get back," he said gently, trying not to elicit a rebellion.

"No."

Bud sighed at the blunt reply. "Look Reggie, this isn't a choice. If I have to drag you back kicking and screaming I will." His tone made it obvious that he was not joking.

"You just don't fucking get it do you?" Reggie finally snapped at the drummer, his narrowed gaze and bared teeth attesting to the current volatility of his mood. "I can't…" he trailed off, expression suddenly falling into a deeper form of contemplation. He sighed heavily before continuing, the exhaustion taking over his demeanor once again. "Look, I just can't go back yet… please."

The whispered plea at the end of the statement was hardly audible and yet it broke Bud's heart. It was starting to become clear that Reggie was terrified of feeling trapped. Trapped with them until… well he was sure the bassist didn't know what.

He groaned in frustration, knowing that he was going to give in. And that he was going to regret it. He wasn't sure what Negaduck was going to do when he found out, but the sight of the shivering mallard in the moonlight was too much for him to resist. "Ok. We won't go back just yet. But if Negs inflicts a world of pain on your ass when we do get back don't say I didn't warn you."

Reggie huffed noncommittally in response.

Bud chuckled softly at the pouting expression the other produced. "Well let's get out of here at least. No way I'm leaving your ass out here."

Reggie didn't argue. He just made his way towards one of the many gaps in the glass sides, bending and disappearing quickly through the opening. Bud took a deep breath before following, slipping easily after his floral companion. Outside, Reggie was occupied with satisfying his ever-present vice, shifting through his coat and finally taking out a smoke to light it. Bud cocked an eye at this. He hadn't realized it but the time they had spent in the greenhouse was probably the longest he had seen the mallard go without a cigarette to calm his shaking. Something told him Reggie hadn't had any since he'd been in there. The thought made him tip his head quizzically at the smoking mallard. Reggie angled his gaze to meet the curious look being sent his way. For some reason it wasn't too hard to figure out what question was going through Bud's head.

He took a long hit from his cigarette, letting out the smoke before answering the unspoken question. "Just seemed rude to smoke in front of them."

It took a moment for the statement to really sink in, but when it did Bud couldn't help but laugh. As usual it only served to irritate Reggie.

He chuckled gently at the look his fellow mutant was giving him. "You didn't want to smoke plant corpses in front of your fellow flora, eh?" he couldn't help the final round of bubbling chortles that resulted from the mental images. "Yeah, that makes sense I suppose." As hard as he was trying to keep himself under control, Bud was having a tough time forcing the stupid, amused grin off his face.

The smirk only grew when Reggie snorted slightly, mouth twitching in a brief amused smile. "Yeah, yeah go ahead and laugh. I'm used to it."

Bud chuckled slightly at this, twisting around the other so that he was standing in front of him. "Well, shall we Reginald?" he said, motioning for the other to follow him back into the forest.

"Sure. Once I convince myself that it'll be worth walking all the way back just to get my ass kicked," Reggie muttered irately.

Bud thought this over for a moment before replying. "Get on my back."

"What?" Reggie questioned with a raised brow.

"Yeah. Shit, it's not hard for me at all. Just hop on and we'll be outta here in no time."

"You're… kidding right?"

Bud rolled his eyes at the other's hesitation. "Look this will go way faster without you tripping over your roots."

Reggie eyed him suspiciously for a moment before finally giving in and moving around to the dripping dog's back. He hesitated a moment before jumping awkwardly onto the watery form. It was strange to try and hold on and yet he wasn't slipping. He held his arms stubbornly away from the other's body, the fluid grip around his legs and lower half allowing him to hold his precious cancer tube safely out of the way. "Fine. But don't put out my smoke water boy."

Bud chuckled amusedly. "Heh, smoke if you can, but ya miiight wanna hold on," he replied.

Before Reggie even had time to question him, the watery mongrel took off at top speed through the forest. Bud couldn't help snickering softly at the squeak let out by Reggie, his heart skipping a beat when the mutant mallard threw his arms around him, clinging desperately to his watery neck to keep from falling. His cigarette was long forgotten.

As the shock of the speed and the fear of falling wore off, Reggie cringed realizing the position he'd put himself in. His gaze was a mix between embarrassed and irritated when it met Bud's smugly narrowed eyes.

"DON'Tsay a word Bud," he muttered.

Bud didn't say anything, but he just had to snicker at the look on Reggie's face.

His grumpy passenger quickly shifted so that his hands were on Bud's shoulders rather than clinging pathetically to his neck. Although he was disappointed at the change, Bud smiled anyway. It didn't take long for him to be graced with more close contact. Reggie yelped in fear once again as they swerved near a tree, cringing close to the flowing drummer's back in case he might hit it. The watery dog beneath him laughed softly to himself again but still didn't speak.

Once Reggie realized how well Bud weaved his way through the trees and was finally able to calm down, he found he rather enjoyed the experience of swerving around the mangled trunks. The breeze blew back his petals in a refreshing way that Reggie had to appreciate. He soon settled back to watch as the dead landscape passed by.

For once the silence that settled between them was somewhat comfortable.

Reggie's wandering gaze eventually landed on the stirring surface of Bud's form. The quick pace was causing a turbulent wave to run throughout the drummer's entire body. It was an excessive surge and yet it was somehow gentle. Reggie felt a sudden urge to feel it that he couldn't deny.

Timid fingers stroked gently and fleetingly along the churning surface. The effort to remain unnoticed was in vain. Just the touch of the leafy skin sent a pulse of sensation through Bud that he had previously thought was impossible with his mutated form. It had been so long since he had felt such vast sensation. If he ever had. He felt every inch the other moved, every time he breathed. The obvious stroking soon turned to a light curling of fingers against Bud's water. He wasn't sure if Reggie was even aware of it but he didn't risk ending the contact by saying anything.

Reggie had to admit the journey was much shorter and easier with Bud offering the aid of his watery talents. The night air made him shiver, but it was cleaner out there; it was refreshing to be free of the smog for a while, but he could smell it getting closer. His liquid taxi finally slowed, Bud setting him down on his roots as they reached the edge of the metropolis. The drummer didn't say a word he just motioned for him to be silent as he inspected the dark streets. There really would be hell to pay if he let Reggie be seen. After a quick search for the nearby fans, Bud once again motioned to him signaling for the leafy bassist to follow.

Reggie didn't ask where they were going. He just trailed his flowing cohort through the darkened city. Bud knew where he was going far better than he did that was for sure, and he didn't care where they ended up as long as it wasn't back at the manor. Although he couldn't say he was totally pleased when he saw where they did end up.

The Old Haunt was just as Reggie had remembered: hardly visible among the other buildings surrounding it, almost hiding amid the indistinctive line of walls. Despite his slight reluctance to enter the bar again, he had to admit he was relieved that the part of town they had slipped to lacked the many partying fans. Negaduck didn't like them in his private part of town.

The slightly dingy door groaned as it was opened, a telltale signal to those inside that someone had entered their space. Reggie let out a relieved breath when he saw the lack of patrons. Only the regulars really hug around so late unless there was news the band would be there. Reggie and Bud had not exactly announced that they would be stopping by.

The delight that the surprise visit produced was expressed very clearly by the small crowd. One voice in particular rose above the rest, capturing the attention of the two mutants very quickly.

"Bud old boy!" Benny called, already standing to greet them. "Now we got ourselves a party!" he continued excitedly, throwing an arm around Bud's sopping neck and pulling him down slightly to match his shorter stature.

Reggie paid them little mind. His attention was drawn almost immediately from the two chatting canines, captivated by something far more interesting to the glum mallard than whatever they were saying. Silken white smoke rose through the beam of light cast upon the table where she sat, painting random patterns as it twirled through the misty sliver of illumination. Reggie's eyes stayed glued on the slim cigarette in her hands as it was brought to her bill finally leading his eyes to the lovely bird's face. A gorgeous smile met his gaze as Darla waved briefly to him with her free hand. Reggie couldn't really explain why, but he was strangely happy to see her.

An uncommonly sincere attempt to smile back overtook him. Despite the fact that he was genuinely trying, the seldom used muscles resisted compliance, producing little more than a twitch and a lopsided half grin that looked more absurd than truly pleased. Darla's smile grew at the attempt nonetheless.

Reggie's face fell when he finally noticed the other resident of the small table. The glare Jake was giving him could not quite be labeled as malevolent, but it was unsettling anyway. Of all the people that were there, the strange mallard was probably the last one he would have wanted to see. Not that he was surprised to see him. Reggie shifted his eyes away quickly, the blue orbs landing once again on Bud and his drunken friend who he was currently leading to the table where the others sat. Benny chuckled uncontrollably in his inebriation, throwing an arm around Darla and muttering something in her ear that made her laugh amusedly.

Bud shook his head, chuckling slightly as he turned away from the bar's three most regular, and well-respected, patrons. Although somewhat surprised, Reggie was relieved when Bud began to guide him away from them. They were too distracted to even really notice the two mutants leave. It was quickly apparent where Bud was leading him.

The rest of the space between the entrance and the bar in the back was notably devoid of customers, but in the distant corner near their destination, there was one group that caught Reggie's eye immediately. Or rather one person that did.

Sapphire.

Every woman in the small group that she sat with paled in comparison to her beauty. Reggie hardly even noticed them. His heart skipped a beat when gorgeous eyes slipped sensually up to meet his. Bud could hear the timid gulp he produced in response. As they neared the table he knew they would have to stop and say something; Bud suddenly wished Reggie would take his eyes off the beauty. He put on a smile anyway.

"Why hello there Sapphire darling," he said smoothly, his grin charming as ever when directed at women.

"Hello Buddy dear, always a pleasure," Sapphire paused to let the drummer sweep her hand up and kiss it. "And so wonderful to see you again Reggie," she purred, batting her eyes at the quivering mallard. "These are my friends. Say hello girls."

The four women that accompanied her said their hellos in unison, obviously trying hard as they could to sound as pleasing as possible. Reggie didn't quite know what to say.

"…Hi," he finally muttered.

The girls broke out in giggles at the uncomfortable reply.

Reggie's narrowed gaze could not hide the effect of his deep green blush. He fumed internally when the dark tint in his cheeks elicited a second round of chortling from the annoying females.

"Oh come on now girlies be nice to Reggie. He's new to all this shit you know," Bud interjected in an attempt to rescues the nervous mallard.

"Oooo, how new?" a redhead questioned flirtatiously, twirling a lock of hair around her finger.

Bud laughed at the display. "Oh Ginger, you naughty thing you," he said, waggling a finger at her, "Sorry to say you won't find out. Reggie's had a bit of a shitty night and only much alcohol can cure him sooo farewell my lovelies," he finished throwing an arm around Reggie's shoulder to guide him away from the estrogen-laden group.

The laughs resumed yet again as the two made their way to the bar. Reggie couldn't help but look over his shoulder at the captivating bird that had caught his attention in the first place. Somehow it made him feel better to see that she had not joined in the mindless giggles of her friends, but the look she was giving him brought heat to his cheeks in an entirely different way.

He brought his attention to the bar in front of them to keep his thoughts from the deep blue eyes and curvy figure. His thoughts were still very much preoccupied by her as they settled at the bar, but there was something about the familiar space that was somehow comforting. He wasn't even paying attention to the drummer as he set about procuring what he deemed the proper alcoholic beverages to treat their stress. Apparently no one was interested in having a bar tender around that night. Not that Bud really needed one. He returned quite quickly from his selection process, setting several bottles of different alcohol down before retaking his seat. He opened one easily, taking a long drink before returning his attention to the bassist beside him.

Reggie had grabbed one of the bottles and was now inspecting the clear intoxicant inside. Bud's eyes slipped to the leafy fingers entwined around the container; it was the first time he noted the un-bandaged digits since they had been out there. They were encrusted with dried blood and trembling in pain ever so slightly. For a moment he considered offering to help them feel better again, but in the back of his mind he knew Reggie would never accept. He settled for staring into tantalizing blue eyes.

Reggie met the gaze with a questioning look. "What?"

"Why did you leave tonight?" Bud asked. Although he was pretty sure he knew why.

He received only a brief shrug in reply.

Bud was silent for a moment before continuing. "Well I hope you enjoyed your little stay in the greenhouse because you won't be seeing your plant friends again anytime soon I can assure you that."

"I wasn't out there for that… and they're not my friends! That's just silly."

"Oh, then why were you out there in the middle of the night trying to make them grow?"

"I didn't! Well… not intentionally or anything. They just—" he cut himself off. "Wait what the hell does that matter? It has nothing to do with why I was out there anyway."

"Why were you out there then?"

"Why are you so damn interested in talking about me all the sudden?" Reggie questioned, growing suspicious at the prying.

Bud thought about his reply for a moment, filling one of the glasses he had grabbed as he contemplated. "Well friends usually know something about each other, don't they?" he finally answered, lifting his gaze from the alcohol in front of him in favor of watching the other's reaction.

Reggie refused to meet his eyes. "Who says we're friends?"

"Aren't we?"

"No."

Bud snorted slightly at this. "Coulda fooled me."

"I'm not interested in talking about myself."

"Welll why don't we make a game out of it?"

"Game? What kinda game," Reggie questioned, brow rising at the suggestion.

Bud produced a sly smile in response. "The drinking kind of course."

"Do I look like the sort who plays drinking games?"

"Come on, don't be a downer Reg. It'll be fun!"

Reggie groaned. "How exactly would this game go?"

"Well I suppose we take turns asking questions and if you refuse to answer you take a shot. Simple enough right?"

"Simple for you! You like to drink."

Bud rolled his eyes. "Well fine then, if you reeeally don't want to…"

Reggie sighed heavily at the passive aggressive comment. He really didn't like how easily Bud managed to talk him into things. "Fiiiiiine, you go first then," he finally answered, pouring some of the liquor into his own shot glass.

Bud grinned elatedly at his small triumph as he watched the vessel fill. "Ok. Why do you hate the idea of me being your friend so much?"

Reggie swallowed thickly at this. He was starting to regret giving in already. "… who says I hate it?"

"Let's just say it's obvious."

"Well you're so weird about it! How the hell am I supposed to feel?"

"I'm the weird one? Would you prefer the company of your other housemates? Besides, I think you find me fun," he said crossing his arms smugly over his chest, a stupid grin plastering on his face as a thought hit him. He leaned in close to Reggie, still smirking. "Come on Reggie," he said, grin growing toothier, "Lemme be your buddy."

Reggie rolled his eyes at the ridiculous expression. "I try to make it a point to not be buddies with my coworkers."

"Coworker?" Bud chuckled at the choice of words. "Well it sounds like an excuse to me," he finished, choosing not to comment on Reggie's word selection.

The glum bassist swirled the liquor in his glass as he considered his answer. "Friends are nothing but trouble," he paused to stare at the spinning amber fluid in the small glass, gaze distant. "If you let yourself care about someone you're just setting yourself up to get hurt… it's not worth the suffering."

Bud frowned at this. He hadn't quite expected that response. "Do you really believe that?"

Reggie didn't answer, but the look on his face portrayed the depth of hurt that the idea elicited despite his silence.

"Reggie…"

"Look, I answered your question. So it's my turn now right?"

Bud sighed. "Take it away Reg."

"What's Negaduck talk to you about when you're alone?"

"…You know I can't answer that."

"Why?" Reggie questioned simply, eyes narrowed at the drummer.

"Negaduck's a totally insane homicidal maniac isn't a good enough reason?"

"So. What do you have to fear?" Reggie retorted, still determined to elicit a proper response from the other.

"Sorry Reg. That's question two," Bud replied, taking his shot. "It's my turn now."

Reggie fumed slightly at the answer, suddenly feeling the need to get the better of the water-dog. "Fine. Bring it on water boy."

Bud couldn't help but grin at the reply.

The next couple rounds passed much as the first. Bud trying his best to figure out things that would get the duck to answer and Reggie asking questions he knew the other wouldn't answer. It was almost as if he was just informing Bud that he did know. Although Reggie seemed pretty willing to answer most of what he was asked, anything he deemed remotely personal he refused stringently. It was becoming increasingly annoying to Bud.

"Oh come on, that one wasn't even that bad," he half whined at Reggie's most recent refusal.

"Hey, I'm allowed to not answer if I want," he muttered, shuddering slightly at the burn of the shot he had just taken.

"Yeah, well you could at least trust me a little," Bud replied dejectedly. The more the game stretched on the more his normally hidden depressive side was making itself known.

Reggie clenched his teeth in annoyance at the increasingly pathetic display the other was putting on. "Well you expect me to tell you all this shit and you've refused more questions than me! How the hell am I supposed to trust you?"

"That's because you keep asking questions about Negaduck! Ask something else and I would answer."

"Oh yeah?" Reggie challenged, "So what's with the collar then, huh?"

The question sent a chill through Bud's body. "What do you mean?" he questioned, hoping desperately that he had kept the bulk of his nervousness for the subject hidden.

"You're always pulling at it. If you hate the thing so much why don't you just take it off?"

"… ask a different question."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Reggie replied with an irate huff.

Bud narrowed his eyes at the comment. So Reggie wanted to play that way. "Well what's with the coat then, huh?" he asked, extending his watery torso so that he could bring his dripping muzzle close to the aggravated mallard.

Silence met the inquiry.

"Exacty. Ask a different question."

"Fine," Reggie replied, finally giving in. He thought a moment before answering again. "What's your family like? You never really told me much about what your life used to be before this."

"Oh yeah, that's a good one," he chuckled. "In a word: boring. Lame, uninspired, paaaainfully normal… heh, guess they never really did get me. Idolized my older brother though. Pfft, asshole. He's a freaking dentist that brags about being a doctor! Yeah, I'm real fucking impressed! Buddy is gonna drink himself to death? Oh, well who cares? Brendon learned to scrape teeth with a metal stick!"

Bud crossed his arms over his chest as he finished, seemingly oblivious to the other's presence for the moment. After a second of internal fuming, Bud finally realized that they were just sitting in silence. He turned a sheepish gaze to Reggie, rubbing at the back of his head. It was suddenly obvious that he had expressed more of his own problems than he had intended.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Heh, wow enough of my issues I guess… So what about you?"

Reggie stiffened at that question. "What?"

"What was your family like?" Bud reiterated, "Something must have made you want to leave."

"They were assholes, what else is there to say?" The attempt to avoid a real answer was obvious.

"Aw, come on Reg," Bud pouted, "I told you mine."

Reggie sighed, pausing before he responded as he tried to decide if it was really worth telling him just to keep the moping at bay. "It was just my… father… and me." The bitter nature of the word father told Bud all he really needed to know

Bud tipped his head at the answer, his own gloomy mood forgotten as he started to realize that he had just struck a very tender nerve. "Real loving and nurturing type, huh?" he questioned gently, the fact that he wasn't serious very apparent.

"Well sure. If by loving you mean heartless and nurturing you mean abusive, overbearing asshole." Reggie's entire body went ridged when he realized exactly what he had just said. He turned his head away from the watery stare he knew Bud was sending his way. "I never was good enough for him."

"Yeah… I was never good enough for my family either. I suppose we have more in common than you thought."

"… I guess. So what did you do about it?"

"Same thing you did. I left."

There was no reply; Reggie was far too lost in his own mind.

Bud attempted to lighten the mood. "Ok, ok," he said with a chuckle, "I got a good one. What's with the potato thing?"

Although the memories made the bassist shiver, he couldn't help the few short chuckles that escaped him at the question. "Shoulda guessed that one would come up eventually," he muttered, resting his chin on one of his palms. He considered just taking the drink instead of answering but his already hazy vision told him to just suck it up. "Alright, alright. Well let's see here… I suppose it all started when I decided I was gonna spend some time in the country for a while. FIRST big mistake right there! Totally weird shit tends to happen to me in the country. So anyway, I end up on this potato farm, figure I'll just work there till I can be on my way again it'll all be good." He paused, lighting a cigarette before bringing his attention back to Bud. "Second mistake. Ended up stuck there for almost a whole year. Then insane farmer dad decides that he's gonna shotgun marry me to his freaky daughter! Turns out she's some crazy potato sucking vampire bitch with the hots for me… I'm not sure if it's possible to be raped by a potato but either way I can't even see the damn things without freaking out anymore." He paused for a moment obviously lost in his thoughts. "Posey." He finally muttered, shuddering as the name passed his bill.

Bud was dumbstruck. Of all the possible weird explanations he might have expected for Reggie's phobia, crazy hick potato vampire girl was not one of them. He couldn't stop himself from breaking out in laughs. "You're telling me that you're afraid of potatoes because," the laughs resumed, "because …" He couldn't even finish his thought without laughing.

"Hey! I was traumatized," Reggie snapped in response, obviously not pleased with the amount of amusement the other got out of it.

"I guess to say."

"Potatoes for every meal for nearly a year." He shuddered at the memory. "Mashed, whipped, baked, twice baked, fried… raw! Pickled! Guhhh it was awful."

Bud chuckled softly in response, doing his best to keep himself under control. Something told him another round of laughs would just anger Reggie. "Well I suppose it's your turn."

Nearby the group of giddy girls in the corner erupted in a round of laughter. Reggie cocked a brow at them, the amused noises sparking an idea in his head.

"Hmm, well there's a question for ya Buddy. How does a mutant like yourself get such a… reputation?" Reggie asked, "You know, with them," he finished gesturing to the girls still giggling softly in the corner. "I mean how exactly do you… well," he rubbed at the back of his head searching for the words, "If you're made outta water and all…" It seemed Reggie was starting to regret his question.

As much as Bud was enjoying watching Reggie stumble uncomfortably over the concept, he finally decided to put the awkward mallard out of his misery. "Specialize so thoroughly in the erotic needs of the fairer sex?" he offered with a smirk.

Reggie took a drink just to keep from answering but the cocked brow he sent Bud's way was more than enough of an answer.

Bud chuckled amusedly at the discomfort Reggie displayed for the subject. "Heh, that is a pretty awesome trick actually," he replied, leaning forward to grab the glass of water that had been sitting in front of them since they arrived. He held the clear vessel in the light tipping it side to side as if to show the other that there was nothing out of the average about it.

As he dipped his finger into the water, a strange swirl of contradictory color and texture invaded the normally clear liquid. Within moments every drop of water in the glass had been hardened into a yellow-stained, malleable rubber.

Reggie was stunned. The look of shock was enough to set Bud off into another round of bubbling laughs. The still flabbergasted mallard reached out his hand in disbelief so that the other could shake the jiggling mass of solidified water into his leafy fingers. Reggie squeezed the squishy cylinder a few times, the hard water jiggling in response. A strange look formed on the bassist's face at the sight. At first, Bud wasn't quite sure what the expression was trying to portray, but after a few moments it was quite obvious. Reggie's shoulders began to shake with the effort of holding back the display, but his lowered inhibitions finally got the better of him as he started to snicker in genuine amusement.

The laugh was in a word: ridiculous. It was an odd marriage between a snort and a snigger, an obvious testament to the lack of use the sound suffered. It was a voice unaccustomed to laughter and it showed. To Bud, it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, but it wasn't what truly captivated him. The uninhibited smile that had slipped across Reggie's face was the most genuine display of emotion Bud had yet seen from him. He couldn't help the enamored grin that spread across his watery features as he watched the other laugh. He was completely lost in the moment. Smiles were gorgeous on Reggie.

"That is one hell of a laugh Reggie," he said softly without even thinking. He immediately regretted the comment.

The statement quickly wiped the grin of Reggie's face, silencing the amusement as quickly as it had started. Reggie looked almost terrified. He put a hand to his bill as though to prevent the appendage from letting forth more of the absurd noise.

The silence stretched into uncomfortable territory as Reggie resisted meeting the fluid gaze. Bud hated himself for ruining the moment, but the abrasive noise that suddenly filled the bar informed him that it would have ended soon anyway.

The entrance was unexpected but hardly inconspicuous. The loud bang produced as the door hit the wall paled in comparison to the boisterous voice that accompanied it.

"Jacky is HERE bitches!" the obnoxious mallard called into the mostly empty bar. Behind him, his ever-present companion was just barely visible. It took only a cursory inspection of the space for his eyes to fall on his slightly drunken band mates. "Well, well, well. Fancy meeting YOU ladies here," he continued, making his way over to them with Elmo close behind.

"What are you two doing here?" Bud questioned as Elmo plopped himself into one of the empty bar stools.

"Well I could ask you the same thing wet stuff," Jack replied, leaning against the bar beside Bud. "We were bored so Mo put his moves on the elevator so we could come see what you naughty boys were up to. Way to party without us. You're gonna make Sparky and I think you don't love us anymore," he finished, batting his pathetically enlarged eyes at them.

"We are not partying," Reggie replied matter-of-factly, "I'm depressive drinking."

"Well that sounds about my speed right now. I'm super depressed," Elmo muttered, leaning his chin on the bar top so he could stare eyelevel at his glass as he filled it. A quick tip of the head and the glass was empty once again. Elmo was already refilling it when he finally turned his attention to the mallard beside him. His eyes widened as though he had just noticed that the slightly scuffed mutant was even there. "Woah! Reg… what the hell happened to you?"

"The woods," Reggie grumbled in reply.

"What about wood?" Elmo questioned, scratching at his bad ear as though it would help him hear the soft reply better.

Jack cackled at his friends genuinely confused, but borderline naughty comment. "Yeeah, if you're gonna mutter around Mo ya might wanna do it in his good ear Reggie," he pointed out, flicking at Elmo's mostly deaf ear playfully.

"What are you gonna do to my ear?"

Jack's laughing resumed.

"Nothing," Reggie answered, making a point to make sure his voice audible enough.

"Hmmm…" Elmo's gaze drifted as his attention already began to wane, falling slowly down Reggie's form. He tipped his head at what he saw. "Your coat is torn by the way," he muttered, pointing a finger at one of the more substantial holes.

Reggie glanced down yelping slightly in horror when he noticed the tears that the rodent had referred to. He pulled the bottom of the garment up to investigate a ripped seam. He was normally not so thoughtless when it came to the care of his beloved coat. The tear made his heart skip a beat. "Gaaaahh! No way, no fucking way! Why meeee," he moaned pitifully.

"Oh lord, take it down a notch drama queen. I can fix that easy peasy," Jack said with a flip of his wrist.

Reggie held the garment protectively to his chest as the jester reached out for it.

Jack rolled his eyes theatrically at the action. "Geez Reggie, I'm not gonna hurt it. You'll get your precious coat back."

Reggie didn't look very reassured by the statement, but he relinquished the trench coat nonetheless, panicking slightly when he felt the fabric slip through his fingers. He bit his bottom bill nervously as he entrusted the precious item to the clown, watching anxiously as Jack pulled a selection of thread from the depths of his pockets. After selecting the black, he reached to the end of his hat, lifting one of the spiked balls up so that he could pull a sewing needle from the junction between the fabric and the cool metal at the end. A swift move of his hands and the dark thread was pulled through the needle, Jack already setting about fixing the rips.

Reggie occupied himself by whipping the dirt from his scratched and still sore feet, trying desperately to keep himself distracted so as not to keep flicking his eyes to the coat and the mallard handling it. It was the first time he had really noticed how strange having toes felt. His normally webbed feet had not provided such sensation. Struck with the need to explore the woody appendages, he slipped his fingers between them, wiggling the bark-covered toes slightly against his leaves. He was suddenly irritated that both feet were not symmetrical.

As hard as he tried, Reggie couldn't keep his attention off his coat for long. He watched the preoccupied mallard with obviously paranoid eyes. He couldn't have kept the depth of his attachment to the garment hidden if he tried. At least Jack was quick.

"There," the rhythmist said triumphantly, "Good as new. Although no points for fashion sense," he added as he handed to coat back to fidgety bassist.

Relief flooded Reggie's body as it fully sunk in that the cherished item had been returned in one piece. He sighed softly as the fabric touched his leafy fingers once again. Scrutinizing eyes quickly took to searching out the recent repairs for inspection. Reggie couldn't deny being somewhat surprised at the perfection of the mending. If he hadn't known that the rips were just there he would never have been able to tell; they might as well have been completely invisible.

"Wow, this is… actually really good," he said, eyes still examining the black garment. "Thanks, I guess," he finished awkwardly. "I'm impressed."

"Heh, Jacky fun fact! I make all my own clothes," the other mallard replied, an overly chipper edge to his voice as he shoved his sewing needle back where it had come from. "Those hoity toity rich types just don't understand my uniquely awesome sense of style," he finished, fluffing a dangling end of his hat up as though it were hair.

Reggie raised a brow at the action, his attention drifting to the nearby mirror behind the bar. The other duck's display seemed to make him notice how obnoxiously purple his hair really was.

"Whada ya think would happen if I tried to dye this shit?" he questioned to no one in particular, pulling at one of the purple locks. He shouldn't have been surprised at who answered.

Within moments, Jack was behind him, staring at him over his shoulder. Reggie shuddered at the suddenly very close proximity as he stared at the jester's reflection.

"Well given my experience with hair care, it would probably fry and fall out," Jack said, snickering as he fluffed the soft petals fleetingly. Reggie jumped at the touch. He would have been more relieved when the contact ended if the jester hadn't decided to lean in close, his mask-clad face just barely far enough from Reggie's cheek to not be touching the smooth green skin. "But don't you dare try and change it," Jack continue, a surprisingly serious tone behind his words and a harsh look on his face. It didn't take long for his usual perverse smirk to return. "I adooore how colorful you are."

Reggie shuddered at the playfully sensual tone. He barely even noticed his own sigh of relief when the other pulled away to plop himself in the vacant seat between him and Elmo.

"You know I'm never allowed to wear more than four colors at a time," he continued huffily, crossing his arms over his chest unhappily. "And three of them have to be shades of black!" Reggie was almost tempted to smirk at the annoyed look on Jack's face. He'd never considered that the jester was being color deprived.

Before he could even offer any kind of answer, the sound of heels on the floor behind them drew his attention from his flamboyant band mate. He could almost tell it was Sapphire before he even turned around to look. The scent of her perfume floated towards them as she moved closer, bringing the enchanting smell of flowers and sweet spice with her as she approached. The fact that her eyes were fixed on him the entire time was not lost on Reggie. His heart began to pound faster as it became obvious that she intended to join them. The mallard beside him didn't even have to turn around to know she was coming.

Jack sniffed the air, bill practically curling in repulsion at the aroma that wafted his way. "Ugh… I smell skank," he said with a notable edge of disgust to his voice.

"I was about to say the same," Sapphire purred in reply, leaning over his shoulder, knowing all too well that the close proximity would annoy the jester. She was obviously unruffled by the customary trash talk.

"Oooh it's you Sapphire." He shuddered dramatically. "No wonder it smells like slut in here."

"So sorry Jacky, I didn't realize only one queen hussy was allowed to stink this place up."

"Ha! You know it bitch," Jack replied, using one finger to push her away by her curved beak; the digit barely touching her as though she were covered in something repulsive.

"Now ladies play nice," Bud interjected, knowing all too well that the semi-playful bickering would escalate very quickly if not interrupted.

"Fiiiiiiine," Jack answered with a roll of his eyes. "Sapphire, for a walking piece of nasty, festering vagina you're… not the worst."

"Oh, you have such a way with words Jacky darliiing," Sapphire hummed playfully in reply. "You are just the sweetest!" she cried, throwing her arms around the jester and forcing his large bill into the depths of her well-endowed chest.

Jack could only produce a muffled cry of terror in response, gasping for air when he finally freed himself from the ample cleavage. "Ahhhh my face! It's infected with nasty GIRL COOTIES!" he cried, falling to the floor theatrically. "It buuuuurns!"

The gorgeous bird rolled her eyes in response.

Elmo snickered nasally at his friend's display, obviously offering no pity for Jack's girl repulsion. "I think ya might wanna leave before Jack melts on us girly," he said still scoffing in amusement.

"Yeah, beat it vagina," Jack said, returning to his seat as though nothing had happened. "Time for boy bonding time. And take everyone else with you while you're at it… slutbag."

Sapphire couldn't help but laugh. She had always found Jack and his extreme distaste for women as more amusing than insulting. "Well I suppose it's about time I escorted dear Benjamin's drunk ass home anyways."

Before she could say anything else, said dog that just happened to be within earshot of her statement decided to join them. "Eww don't call be Benjamin babes. It's humiliating," he said, slipping an arm around her waist more to keep himself standing than anything else.

Her laughs returned at the unexpected appearance of the drunken canine, the chortles only increasing when Benny swung them around and started pulling her towards the door. "Bye boys," she called before they were too far away. "See you soon. Reginald," she said over her shoulder, the hypnotizing look filling her eyes again as she left. Reggie's blush returned with a vengeance.

"Oooooo, she wants your hard wood BAD Bushy boo," Jack hooted as soon as the two were gone.

"Says who?" Reggie muttered, taking out a smoke to avoid the clown's gaze.

"Sapphire has a thing for fellas of your… exotic persuasion. Isn't that right Buddy boy?"

The shit-eating grin that Bud produced in reply was more than enough of an answer.

"Yeah, well it's not so hard when you can grow your own personal dildo," Reggie retorted, his irritated voice barely above a mummer.

"Hey, it's not all rubber cocks you know," Bud answered distractedly, setting about pouring drinks for each of them.

Reggie's eyes widened at this. "They like just… water?" he questioned, unable to deny his curiosity at the statement.

"You've never been acquainted with a water jet have you Bushy?" Jack asked, mischievous grin only serving to increase Reggie's embarrassment.

The slightly blushing mallard chose not to offer a reply. The answer was obvious anyway. "Yeah, well I still don't see why they would want a mutant so much anyway."

"Oh please, half the reason they want some of that is because you're a mutant," the other mallard replied.

"Yeah, totally. The bitches go crazy for the mutated ones," Elmo added. "Heh, but then most of them will fuck just about any of our bassists just to say they did," he finished, snorting obnoxiously.

"Yeeah, just ask Buddy. He's the expert on bassist fucking. In't that right Buddy boy?" Jack said, turning his attention to the wet canine that had since slipped behind the bar to mix the various alcoholic concoctions he had selected for each of them.

"Hey now, don't bring me into this… I'm too busy. Yeah, see, I'm getting the booze," he said swiftly, slipping away to shift through the selection of alcohol that the bar had to offer. He soon flowed so far down the wall of liquor that he could no longer even hear the others.

"Well somehow I still doubt it," Reggie answered, choosing to ignore Bud's comment completely.

"So you're telling me you don't believe that they wanna try out your log ride just cause you're a mutant?" Jack questioned, downing his drink as he waited for an answer.

"Yeah, I'm sure most people are real turned on by splinters," Reggie replied, "Might as well accept that my cock is useless now… if I still had it," he finished with a slightly saddened glance to his woody lap.

"Oh like you were really using it anyway."

"What would you know?"

"Pleeeease you might as well have a big ol' virgin stamp in the middle of your forehead," Jack replied mockingly.

"You don't know shit!"

"So are you a virgin?"

"I don't see how that's any of your fucking business," Reggie retorted, grumbling quietly.

"Well that's just a fancy way of saying yes," Jack snorted. "Why don't we just ask the one who would know best!"

Reggie's eyes practically bulged out of his head when the insane rhythmist suddenly knelt on the floor in front of him, face pointed between his bark-covered knees.

"Why hello there little Bushy!" Jack said to the wooded nethers, speaking to Reggie's lower half as though it were a sad kid in need of a friend. "What do you say little guy? Is it way lame being Reggie's pogo stick?" he cupped a hand over his ear as if listening for a response. "Oh yeah it's real boring here," he continued, his voice altered to a high-pitched representation of the other half of his conversation, "And I'll tell ya Jack, if I don't get some fucking action soon I'm just gonna pack up my little nuts and leave!"

"Will you quit talking to my crotch!" Reggie yelled, finally delivering a firm kick to the underside of the now cackling mallard's bill.

Although a bit halfhearted, the kick was enough to knock Jack back on his tail but hardly sufficient to silence his laughs. The addition of Elmo's soft snickers did not help Reggie's mood.

"Ugh, can we just wait in silence until Buddy comes back? Is that possible?" he groaned, rubbing at his temples as he slumped in his seat.

The response produced by the others proved that it wasn't.

Despite his current lack of attentiveness, the knowing glance and soft snickers that the two guitarists were sharing did not go unnoticed. Reggie sighed heavily, knowing he would have to address the annoying noises or they would never stop. "What now?"

"Dude, don't call him Buddy," Elmo said through his snickers.

"Yeah only chicks call him Buddy," Jack added, leaning against his companion as his chuckles got worse.

The information left Reggie dumbfounded, mouth slightly agape and mind reeling. Suddenly several confusing moments made a whole lot more sense. "You're kidding right? I can't call him Buddy just cause I'm a guy?"

"Well sure you can," Elmo snorted in reply, "If you want people to think you're his bitch."

"Jack calls him Buddy all the time!" Reggie retorted trying to defend himself without even really knowing why.

"You're not makin' a very good case for yourself there hun," the still very amused rhythmist answered, brow cock and smile crooked.

"Well he never mentioned that to me," Reggie muttered angrily, leaning back in his chair and crossing his slim arms over his chest.

"Oh yes, I imagine he wouldn't," Jack answered with a snicker, his lewd glance to Elmo causing the rodent to join his laughs once again.

As if he could tell he was being talked about, the watery canine chose that moment to reappear. Reggie wasn't sure if he was relieved to see the other or more mortified than before.

They all grew silent at the quizzical look Bud directed at them.

"What are you guys talking about?" He asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," Reggie muttered.

Jack nudged at his shoulder with an obnoxious wink and a cockeyed smile. The expression on Reggie's face clearly displayed his irritation.

"Riiiight," Bud answered suspiciously, "Well since we're all gonna get it from Negs now anyway, guess we might as well enjoy the night while we can."

"Ooo sounds fun sweet buns. What're we gonna do?" Jack asked excitedly.

"Well we were playing a drinking game," the drummer replied.

"Hey yeeah! I could seriously use some of that right now," Elmo said, "I'd like to forget as much of tonight as possible."

"Oh, oh! Let's play truth or dare!" Jack suggested eagerly.

"No," Bud snapped, "The last time we played truth or dare I ended up getting stained pink for weeks. Besides, that's not a proper drinking game anyway."

"Fine Mr. Buzzkill." Jack rubbed his chin, obviously considering his choices very intently. "Oh I know! We can play I've never!"

"What the hell is that?" Reggie questioned, undeniably nervous at how excited the suggestion made Jack.

"Geez you really don't get out much do ya Reggie?" the other mallard retorted.

"You just say something you've never done and anyone who has done that has to drink," Elmo answered. "I suck at that game," he muttered as an afterthought.

"Yeah well, I wanna play anyway. Let's play, let's plaaaaaay!" Jack replied, bouncing in his seat.

"Works for me. I plan on getting drunk either way," Bud responded with a chuckle.

"And I already forgot what the hell we were doing!" Elmo added amusedly.

Bud lifted a brow at the slouching mallard beside him, sly grin sliding across his face. Reggie looked back with an almost fearful grimace on his face. He groaned in response to the unspoken question knowing that he really didn't have a choice. If he thought the Old Haunt had been bad before, he knew tonight was going to a mix between traumatizing and unforgettable.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bud wouldn't have expected the game to turn quite out as it did. Between Elmo's poor ability to recall details of his past and the fact that most of the statements had not applied to him, the game had essentially become an all-out war between Jack and Reggie. The currently giggling guitarist was becoming quite amazingly adept at deducing things Reggie would have done based on what he already knew. Jack was more crafty and intuitive than most people would expect, and even in his own increasingly inebriated state, with every secret Reggie revealed through the game lent him more information to build off of. For the bassist's part his job wasn't too hard. Even for him it wasn't too difficult a task to come up with some depraved or overly childish act to make the mallard drink, but as the hours wore on it was quite apparent that the game was starting to take a serious toll on Reggie; it was obvious that things would not go on much longer.

"Iiiii've never… hm. You know, m' starting to have a tough time thinking of things I ain't never done yet." Jack said with a slur, laughing drunkenly as he slouched back against the sofa they had since relocated to, drink threating to spill as he flopped against the soft cushions.

"Thas it! M' done," Reggie finally said, half slurring and half yelling the statement as he raised himself from the plush furniture. "I hate this game, an I hate all a you all. M' going! …. Goin'… somewhere…" he trailed off putting a hand to his whirling head.

"Pfft, party pooper," Jack mumbled in reply.

A quick end was put to Reggie's journey to nowhere when the world began to spin. He groaned gripping the edge of a nearby table for support as a wave of nausea hit him. "Shit I'm dizzy," he muttered, putting a hand to his suffering head and leaning against a nearby table for support.

Bud's shook his head in slight amusement at the intoxication of his fellow mutant. He was about to get up and assist the lightweight mallard when a harsh bang shattered the silence that had followed Reggie's soft statement. The leafy duck focused his foggy gaze on the source of the noise, trying desperately to make out who was there. Reggie swallowed harshly in fear of the threatening shadow in the doorway; he had a bad feeling he knew what it meant.

In the dim entryway was the hunched form of Negaduck; his glowing red eyes giving away his identity without the others even having to fully see him. His fists were clenched and obviously shaking with rage as he scanned the bar for his quarry.

There was suddenly an added sickness assaulting Reggie's stomach.

"Wellll kids, party's over," Jack muttered, sitting up only to fall against his slim companion's shoulder a moment later as his own inebriation got the better of his balance.

The entire group could hear the deep snarls the singer was giving off as finally started making his way towards them; the sound of his boots against the wooded floors lent the approach a sinister quality that made Reggie give out a barely audible but still plainly pitiful moan. He swallowed around the ill sensation in his throat, unsteady feet trying to carry him backwards as the other duck advanced upon them. Reggie suddenly felt very vulnerable not sitting with the others.

"What exactly do you knobs think you're doing here?" the fuming singer sneered.

"Drinkin'! Duuuh," Jack replied. The retort did not sit well with Negaduck. A sharp growl made Jack stiffen nervously despite his drunkenness. "It was his idea to fry the elevator!" he answered in response, pointing an accusing finger at Elmo.

"Like hell!" the rodent retorted angrily. "Who said let's go find out what Reggie and Bud are up to?" he continued, pressing his nose roughly to the end of Jack's bill. "It'll be fuuuun you said. We need a night out you said."

"Shut up!" Negaduck interrupted before the spat could continue. He wasn't interested in what the two guitarists had to say. Enraged eyes turned their fury on the still cringing mallard near him. He could hear Reggie swallow nervously as he approached. "Do you really think that I don't know who started this Reginald?" he growled. He didn't even give the other a chance to defend himself.

Harsh digits clasped around Reggie's neck, practically throwing him to his knees as he turned his fiery eyes on the others. "You all think this is some kinda fucking GAME? Is that it?" he stared them all down as the panicked mallard in his grip continued to claw futilely at the digits encircling his neck; his leafy fingers painfully ill-suited to the task.

None of them replied, but the singer could see a certain canine's entire body shaking with the effort of keeping his composure. The evident anger that Bud was directing his way only made Negaduck increase the pressure of his hold. Reggie gasped frantically at the added force; for a painfully long moment, he was sure the other duck would kill him right then and there.

With a final snarl the malicious mallard finally threw the other to the ground, turning his attention fully to the others as Reggie gulped for air.

"All of you had better get your asses out of here NOW!"

No one argued. They each slipped passed Negaduck without a word; Elmo holding his unsteady companion up and Bud flowing angrily behind them. He couldn't help but look over his shoulder at the still wheezing bassist as they went. Reggie was shuddering pitifully, clutching at his still suffering stomach as the other hand shielded his neck protectively. Fluid eyes flicked fleetingly to Negaduck as the trudged towards the door, unsure if it would just invoke more of the evil duck's rage if he helped the currently debilitated bassist. It was obvious that the singer didn't really care at that point either way.

Bud acted quickly, grabbing Reggie by his slender arms and yanking him to his feet. The shivering mallard didn't resist as he was pulled swiftly towards the door. Once standing, he was able to walk well enough on his own to pull away from the dripping drummer, falling behind him in an attempt to remain discrete as they followed close behind Negaduck. He did everything he could to keep the sick feeling in his stomach at bay as they walked, rubbing his sore neck to try and distract himself. The sight that met him as the doors gave way to the menacing metropolis outside was more than enough to take his mind off the discomfort.

Reggie was so distracted that he didn't immediately notice that something had stopped the others dead in their tracks, the abrupt halt causing him to run into the watery form in front of him. He shook the water from his face, rubbing his head as he peered around Bud to see what had caused the delay. All that his hazy, drunken gaze could really make out through the dark was the unclear outline of a bike and a single eye: a steely half-gaze that tore through the shadows to focus on intently upon them.

The little bit of light that fell upon the curves and crevices of the heavily customized supersport motorcycle did not do the high-speed piece of machinery justice. Reggie didn't know why, but there was a certain air of familiarity about the shadowy figure sitting upon it; a certain similarity to the form that made him shiver in dread. He couldn't help but notice that the eerie eye was staring right at him, studying him. Reggie was undeniably unsettled by the scrutiny.

"Who da hell is tha?" he asked softly, still unable to keep the slight slur from his voice.

"Oh, that's just Drakey," Jack muttered, throwing his companion's balance off and forcing the rodent to throw both arms around him as leaned closer to Reggie, "He's a real downer," he added in an obnoxious whisper, the volume of his statement falling extremely short of inconspicuous.

The harsh glare Negaduck sent them silenced the brief conversation quickly.

A toothy grin slipped across his face as he returned his attention to the shrouded mallard before them. "Why hello there sugar tits," he said, an almost ecstatic edge to his guttural voice. "Been awhile. I was starting to think you didn't wanna play with me anymore," he finished, advancing further on the other.

The slow approach immediately elicited a response. It was not what Negaduck had been hoping for. With a squeal of rubber against hard cement the other duck whipped the back of his bike around and peeled away into the night.

Negaduck didn't waste a second. "In the car NOW jerkwads!" he yelled at them, "Looks like the ducky might be up for a little game after all."

Reggie couldn't help the groans that sounded at the thought of getting back into Elmo's beloved vehicle. Bud literally had to push him towards the metal menace. For once he got in first, pulling the unhappy mallard in behind him. Reggie barely had time to close the door before the pursuit was on.

It didn't take long for them to catch up to the speeding bike ahead of them, but as the chase ventured further into the twisted roads littering the heart of St. Canard, things got a lot more complicated.

The hyper-powered car could more than match the other in speed but his maneuverability was only a fraction of the specialized bike. The insane rodent compensated as best he could in the best way he knew: general destructive and reckless driving. It was not the sort of trip Reggie was currently capable of dealing with very well. He hung over the side of the car clinging desperately to the door as the swerves and off-road driving added an excessive amount of torment to his already miserable stomach. Tortured groans sounded at every harsh turn making Reggie's pain quite audible to the others.

"Puke on my car, and I will HURT you Reggie!" Elmo warned from the front seat.

"Well you're not helping!" It was all Reggie allowed himself time to say before clamping his hand back over his bill, the other soon joining it. The suffering bassist groaned pitifully, the sound muffled by his feathered fingers.

"Bitch about it on your own time volt breath!" Negaduck snapped at the distracted guitarist. "Just CATCH HIM!"

"What the hell do you want me to do? I can't take these corners like him in this beast!"

Negaduck growled at the truth behind the statement. "Drip face! Follow him NOW!" he yelled.

Bud didn't have to be told twice. With a swift move he had slipped past the mallard to his right and over the side of the speeding limo. Reggie watched him rush past the car and around the sharp bend that their target had disappeared behind.

Elmo was forced to take an alternative route; the hefty car unable to take the same turn as the others. Several swerves and terrifying maneuvers later, the hunt ended as abruptly as it had started. As they screeched around the next corner, they found Bud once again. Alone.

The tires screamed as Elmo forced his car to break dead in her tracks, the front fender stopping just short of the watery figure in front of them.

"What the fuck happened this time?" Negaduck shouted at the drummer, leaping onto his seat so that he could see the water-dog without having to look through the windshield at him.

"Well that was a waste of time… again," Jack pouted, hanging over his side of the car. "Why's he out here if he doesn't wanna play with us?"

"That's not what he was here for." Negaduck answered simply, looking over his shoulder at Reggie. "He just wanted to check out our new bassist." His attention returned to the living puddle still standing in front of the car, the look on his face plainly displaying his displeasure. "Tell me something Bud. How the HELL do you always manage to lose him?"

"I don't fucking know he just manages to disappear!" Bud replied defensively.

Negaduck's brow twitched in annoyance at the answer, gaze narrowing dauntingly at him. It was not what he wanted to hear. "Just get back in the damn car," he snapped, dropping himself back into his seat.

Bud complied quickly, falling to the ground and gliding his way over the back of the limo so as not to disturb Reggie. He was not about to ask the suffering mutant to give up his place by the door. The ride back was far smoother, much to Reggie's relief. He had a feeling Elmo's driving lacked much of its usual flare simply because he feared what the sick mallard in the back might do to his baby. Either way he was thankful.

Finally back in the manor, the four band members sat in silence as their leader stared them down. It was as though he was waiting for an explanation that would never come.

Negaduck growled at them for the tenth time in the past few minutes, finally calming his furious thoughts enough to form a coherent sentence. "You know, I SHOULD maim all your sorry asses for what you've put me through today," he hissed, making his way down the line musicians. "These two are totally fucking trashed," he continued, gesturing to Reggie and the barely concisions rhythmist beside him, "That one is bitchin' about his drug problems and you," he snarled stopping on Bud, "Don't even get me started on you."

Bud turned his head away, unable to even think of a response.

"BUT," Negaduck continued, "Since I just happen to need you all in decent shape until this album is FINISHED, you just got real fucking lucky. But if any of you EVER try a stunt like this again I will end you."

The soft gagging sound that Reggie produced as his stomach lurched was the only response any of them offered. Trembling, blood-stained fingers gripped hastily at his bill in a desperate attempt to keep his rebellious gut under control.

Annoyed, half-lidded eyes scowled at him, Negaduck's brow twitching in aggravation. "Get out of here before you do something to make me loath you more."

Reggie didn't have to be told twice. He didn't quite run from the room but he certainly didn't take his time. Negaduck's red stare never left him as he rushed out, the burning gaze following him to assure the singer that the other mallard was gone before he continued.

"Now the rest of you," he growled, "You assholes listen to me and you listen good. It seems to me that everyone is getting just a bit too CHUMMY with this bassist." He paused to stare them all down. None of them met this gaze. "Now I don't know if you've all just FORGOTTEN how things work around here but mark my words, I am not going to remind you again! I don't want the bassist knowing any more than he already does. GOT THAT? Just keep him busy, and keep him away from the lower levels. If this one has to end prematurely I swear I will make you all suffer more than you can possibly imagine."

The look on their faces was enough to assure him they had gotten the message.

"Just keep your mouths shut!" the disgruntled singer continued, turning his back to them in favor of observing his realm from the tall window nearby. "He knows too much already." Negaduck narrowed his eyes at the dark landscape. "Way too much."


	8. The Forth Month

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains some non-consensual stuff. It is not that graphic, but if you wish to skip this scene it is at the very end of the chapter and you should be able to easily tell where it starts. It is not important to read it, only to know that it happens. The last few paragraphs are safe so if you wish to avoid it I would suggest skipping to those.

Another red dawn in St. Canard: the misty metropolis once again engulfed in a blazing swell of turmoil. Only one more night remained before the show the fans had been waiting for, and at that point they were beyond sitting by patiently. The reward they knew would be coming sent them back into a flurry of excitement and their own brand of caustic fun making it seem as though the past four months had never passed at all. The manor that secluded the band was a far different story. There were no parties, no cause for jubilation, only a suffocating stillness that engulfed the musicians within. The air was heavy and almost stale, groaning with the dense torrent of screams drifting from the realm below. The entire building seemed to tense around the enclosed band members: a reflection of the collective stress that had been building for weeks.

It was a rare quiet moment that morning. Reggie was sitting on one of the smaller sofas situated around the main room, facing the large windows and soaking in the shining rays. Beside him, glittering in the fiery light, was Bud. He was as internally restless as any of them, and just as the mallard beside him he was quietly practicing his parts by beating his sticks in the air as though his drum set was actually there. A soft splashing of water accompanied his movements as he tapped both feet to the songs in his head, mimicking the two bass drums that would be there. Despite the nearly silent rehearsal, the drummer had yet to truly take his attention off the leafy-duck next to him. The early dawn was always one of the few times he could catch Reggie with some of his guard down, and Bud always enjoyed those rare tranquil moments he got to spend with him. It was about the only time he could ever get Reggie to share any stories. The tales were always menial; it was the way Reggie told them, the things he said that really told Bud a lot about him. He was starting to understand the subtle things: the way his mouth twitched, the slight raising and lowering of his brow, the expressions in his blue eyes. They all spoke magnitudes about Reggie’s true feelings, and when Bud had first met him he hadn’t even noticed.

Of course Reggie was still resistant to it. He didn’t like the idea of relying on anyone or letting them get close to him, but despite his complaints, as the weeks wore on it was obvious that he gravitated towards Bud. Not that he blamed him, but whether the moody duck was willing to admit it or not Bud was becoming an increasing source of comfort for him. Since the night he’d held the mallard in his arms as his fingers burned and his screams of pain filled the manor, Reggie had slowly been increasing his level of tolerance to his presence. He still did his best to avoid physical contact, but his socially-awkward nature often compelled him to seek out the dripping dog’s presence. Although Bud suspected—or perhaps hoped—that there was more to it than that. He still couldn’t quite tell at times, but the drummer was getting better at reading his newly acquired companion. He had to admit, Reggie was faring extremely well considering that Negaduck seemed to enjoy torturing him more than any of their previous bassists. Bud’s face fell at the thoughts it dredged up. He was finding that he didn’t like to think about the short lifespan their bassist’s usually possessed. It wasn’t normally something he even bothered to dwell on. It was just the way it was, the way it always had been. They had always been just faces before, a fleeting presence, a momentary voice, perhaps even objects of sexual desire but nothing more. Not like Reggie.

Not at all like Reggie.

Bud turned to the room’s other occupants to provide distraction from his thoughts when he heard a quiet spat break out between Elmo and Jack. The two were currently sitting with the music spread out on the floor in front of them arguing about its content. They had all been stressed to their limits while trapped within the manor, but Elmo and Reggie had easily had it the hardest. Aside from the fact that Negaduck seemed to enjoy tormenting them the most, they were also the two that had been suffering the most from his neurotic nitpicking. He had completely rewritten Reggie’s parts at least twice and had since forced him to switch to a six string bass. Despite the superior quality of the sleek, black instrument, Reggie still preferred his old one and never kept it far away. His currently shaking and exhausted fingers bared testament to how difficult adapting to the new guitar had been. The leafy digits had finally healed from their abuse but it had taken a long time and they still grew very stiff when he forced them to practice so much. As if the pain wasn’t enough, it took a lot of work to play on the additional strings with only two available fret fingers.

The constant changes had been hell on Reggie’s psyche, but they had been far worse on the resident rodent. Elmo did not have the benefit of being able to make sense of the notes on paper like Reggie did, but even if he could he lacked the ability to memorize them. The only way the guitarist could ever remember his parts was to play them so much they became engrained in his being, the movements becoming essentially instinctual. It required a lot of practicing. That morning was no exception, but at that point they were all on their last nerve, ready to lash out at each other any moment. Arguments had been very common place in the past couple weeks. But then again, that was just how the two guitarists were anyway.

Bud shook his head in amusement when the brief spat turned into a brief make out session. He leaned back against the couch, ceasing his midair drumming to relax for a bit as he went back to staring stealthily at the man next to him. He nearly jumped out of his wet skin when Reggie glanced over to observe the most recent round of practice that the other two guitarists were just starting. At least the comical jam session seemed to be enough to keep him from noticing that Bud had been staring.

“Widdly widdly wah, widdly wah, w-”

“Whoa, wait, wait, wait.  I thought the wahs came before the widdlies.”

Jack sighed at having to stop yet again, turning to his companion so that he could tap his foot at him in annoyance. “How many times have I told you Sparky, the wahs NEVER come before the widdlies. Now let’s do it again! Heh… do it.”

“Alright, alright,” Elmo mumbled, his fingers dancing across his strings momentarily as they both prepared to start again.

A brief countdown later and the music resumed beginning an amazingly synchronized, albeit a somewhat lazy, head bang. Reggie made a mental note to keep his distance from the crazed rhythmist any time he did so in the future; the spiked bells on his hat looked very unpleasant to be smacked with.

Jack started chuckling softly as the tune trailed off.

“Is that really how it goes?” Elmo asked, sniggering nasally.

“No, I _totally_ just started making shit up,” Jack replied, still plucking absently at his strings, his continued chuckles making the vibrations strangely amusing.

Elmo snorted at the reply. “Heh, me too. Sounded pretty bangin’ though.”

“I know, right?! We are just that fabulous Mo,” Jack responded, flipping a wrist at him, “This really is starting to bum me out though. Could ya _try_ and remember what the hell we’re doing. I’m gonna get seriously pissed if I have to go through this too many more times.”

“Shut up!” Elmo retorted, his tone much akin to a child pouting at his older sibling. “We wouldn’t have to go through this shit so much if he didn’t keep changing the damn songs _every_ time we get a new bassist!”

Jack rolled his eyes theatrically at him in response. “Yeah, yeah, alright don’t get your panties in a twist. Let me get the fuckin’ music.”

“Ugh, don’t bother Jack. If I try to cram one more goddamn note into my head my brain is gonna fry,” Elmo groaned, rubbing at his throbbing temple as he began to make his way towards the stairway behind them. “I need a recharge… I’m gonna go take a nap.”

“Oooooo, I’ll come with you,” Jack said with poorly hidden excitement.

Elmo put out his hand, the outstretched arm effectively stopping the energetic clown in his tracks. “I wanna SLEEP Jack.”

“Yeah… so?”

Elmo cocked a brow at him. “So, no playtime.”

“Who says I was just interested in _playtime_?” Jack replied, crossing his arms in a huff.

“Are you ever NOT?”

Jack thought about this for a moment, considering his answer. “Okay, fair enough. I’ll find something ELSE fun to do Mr. Grumpypants.” A thought seemed to strike him at his own words compelling him to bounce over to the nearby bassist as his fatigued friend turned to leave. “Hey, Bushy! Wanna _plaaaay_?” he purred, wrapping an arm around the bassist from behind and caressing his green cheek impishly.

Reggie jolted severely at the suggestive stroking, falling clumsily from his seat at the soft touch.

The horrified expression the other mallard was suddenly sending his way made Jack take a few steps back, studying him curiously. “ _Geez_ Reggie, chill out. You act like I’m gonna molest you at any minute.”

The annoyed, half-lidded expression displayed the bassist’s inner thoughts without him having to actually say anything.

Jack rolled his eyes at the look. “Yeah okay, that’s slightly founded. But you STILL need to relax boy.” The frisky gaze returned full force. “Come _ooon_ , play with me!”

Reggie’s eyes widened at the increased level of naughtiness in the jester’s look. “Oh, fuck no!” he yelped, scrambling quickly to get away.

It hardly did much to deter the juvenile chase that followed. Mad cackles trailed Reggie all over the room as the leafy-mutant tried desperately to get away. Jack pouted unhappily when the other duck finally managed to escape by elongating his abnormally stretchy body and struggling his way up to perch atop the immense entertainment set that housed their large TV and Elmo’s remarkable array of gaming devices. He looked very much like a cat hiding from the threat of a bath, and Bud couldn’t help but laugh at the sight.

“Oh, poo. You’re no fun at all, ya know that?” Jack grumbled, finally turning away to plop himself beside the now chuckling puddle.

“Your kind of fun I can sure as hell live without,” Reggie grumbled as he made his way back down the large cabinet, avoiding the various spikes and rough edges as he went.  

Reggie trudged back to the sofa, picking up his discarded bass and strumming lazily on the strings. Jack opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by a characteristically loud entrance by their leader. The deafening bang was more than enough to gain their attention, and they didn’t like seeing the angry duck one bit. The lead singer was becoming more and more difficult to manage as the days passed and he was starting to push them all to their limits. The mallard had locked himself away for nearly all of the past three days only summoning any of them to replay a part that he was displeased with. It had been a frustrating process for the entire band, and Negaduck’s legendary temper had made him all but impossible to live with. He was literally shaking in his frustration, back hunched and eyes scanning the room for his latest target.

“BUSHROOT!” Negaduck yelled once his searching eyes finally pinpointed the other mallard.

“What?” Reggie squeaked in reply, clutching his bass in fear of what the other duck wanted from him.

“Your ass, in the box, NOW!”

Reggie scurried obediently after the departing singer as the other man stormed from the room. He was hardly in any mood to be back in the “box” as Negaduck liked to call it, but he didn’t dare offer any resistance. The secluded recording room was one of his least favorite places to be and he’d been forced to endure it more than any of them. Well, besides Elmo perhaps.

“STOP! Do it again!”

Reggie huffed, his irritation growing exponentially when Negaduck stopped him yet again. He glared briefly, pausing to blow at some of the stray strands of hair currently in his face before restarting. Sore fingers played the same rift for the fifteenth time in a row, the metal strings of his guitar almost screeching under the continued stress. One string in particular had been abused to the point that it could no longer stand the strain, the worn wire finally pushing past its breaking point.

Reggie jumped harshly as the thick cord broke, recoiling instinctually in fear that the snapped string might hit him. “Uhhh…” he mumbled, unsure what else to say.

Negaduck dropped his face into his hands trying to block out the throbbing migraine assaulting his skull. The persistent ailment had been growing steadily worse as the days crept by and it was becoming increasingly inconvenient. It had long since passed a point that even medicine could help, and the other band members only made his head throb more. He was as ready as any of them for it all to be over.

“Just get the fuck out,” Negaduck grumbled. The slight defeat and extreme irritation were obvious in his voice. “And tell Sparks to get his ass in here!” he yelled as the other man slipped hastily out the door.

Reggie grumbled at the barked order, blowing habitually at his bangs once again as he went off in search of assistance. He never would like the servants. The only time they ever seemed to be around was when he really didn’t want to see them. When he did need them, the manor was so vast and Negaduck hated the underlings so much that they were impossible to find. The fruitless search finally found him back in the devil room where Jack was lying with his head in Bud’s lap, tugging at his guitar strings humorously.

“Well, hey there honey bun. Back so soon?” Jack questioned playfully when he noticed the plant-duck had returned.

“Broke a damn string,” Reggie grumbled, “Where the HELL am I supposed to get a new one?”

“Strings and all other electrical or instrumental issues are Elmo’s department. You’ll have to go talk to him,” Bud answered, pointing towards their rooms. “Opposite side of the hall from yours and four doors down.”

Reggie hummed softly in reply, turning to leave without further indication that he had heard the other man at all.

Bud paid it little mind; he was used to the minimal responses, but his ears perked as he remembered an important addition he should probably warn him about. “Careful though!” he called after the departing bassist, “Jack’s room is right after it and _believe_ me you don’t wanna know what’s in there… wish I didn’t know half the stuff that’s in there,” he muttered as an afterthought.

“Oh, _please_. You know you love my kinkiness Buddy boy,” Jack responded lazily.

Reggie noted the information silently as he slipped down the dim hall. He certainly had little desire to end up in Jack’s room of all places. He had never been in any of the bedrooms besides his own, which was really the way he preferred it for the most part, and the crazed clown’s residence was the last one he had any desire to visit. Although distracted by the disturbing idea of what depravity might be concealed within Jack’s room, it was hardly a difficult a task to spot the dwelling he was searching for. A soft glow and nearly silent hum revealed the resident rodent without Reggie even having to see him.

He knocked softly on the barely open door, speaking somewhat timidly through the minimal opening. “Uh, Elmo? … you in there?” he called.

Leafy fingers pushed the door open more when Reggie received no reply, blue eyes widening at the sight that greeted him when he stuck his head through the entryway. All around the room soft lights were glowing and strange machines gathered in strangely lifelike conglomerations. Along the floor, several small robots roamed, their construction a collection of discarded metal and otherwise useless wires. The barrage of visual abnormality was difficult to take in at first, but the cognizant trinkets were oddly beautiful in their intricate and obviously hand-made nature. Although every contraption in the room was admittedly captivating, there was one that stood out above all the others literally towering above the smaller devices. The mechanism occupied its own corner of the room, stretching out along the celling and almost melding with the high barrier. It looked as though the heavy metal cords reaching from its apex were attempting to breach the high barrier above. The sight made Reggie’s jaw drop as he inspected the many intricate crevices of the remarkable machine. Below it the resident guitarist seemed lost in an odd sleep. He was curled up on a make shift bed of colorful pillows and demented stuffed animals more suited to nightmares than child’s play. Reggie had a feeling a certain deranged duck was responsible for that particular portion of the room. He couldn’t control the shudder that ran down his spine at the sight of the rodent hooked up to the enormous device. It looked like something from a twisted film: an alarming and painful-looking linkage of man and mechanism that made Reggie seriously wonder about the young musician. The six metal inputs on his back were each connected to slender, sparking wires, impaled into his skin by long metal spines that hooked into the circular inputs. To top it off, a particularly thick and elaborate attachment was connected to the base of his skull, shooting harsh waves of energy periodically into the sleeping rat. Reggie could see Elmo quiver happily in response to the unnerving shocks.

“Elmo?” Reggie repeated uncertainly, wooded feet carrying him cautiously closer.

He crouched down in front of the rodent when his continued attempts to get his attention went unheard, slipping a hand out hesitantly and reaching slowly for the sleeping guitarist. It didn’t take long for Reggie to realize the mistake he just made. The second his digits contacted the other musician’s furry shoulder a sharp zap of electricity shot into his body. Reggie was thrown onto his back at the contact, suddenly breathless and staring dumbstruck at the bizarre ceiling. 

The sudden, excessive jolt found Elmo sitting abruptly upright head flipping back and forth erratically in search of what woke him. He finally glanced to the ground where a very dazed Reggie was still lying on his back, hair standing on end and his body convulsing ever so slightly. Despite his shock, Elmo couldn’t help but snicker at the wide-eyed mallard. “ _Yeeeah,_ someone probably shoulda warned you not to touch me when I’m hooked up to this beast,” he said, pointing a gloved finger over his shoulder at the immense machine.  

Reggie inhaled sharply as he finally managed to coax his body into a sitting position, the chaotic purple hair and slight singes all over his body reviving Elmo’s laughs as he lifted himself up. “Yeah,” he finally managed to choke out breathlessly, “Thanks for the info Mo.”

Elmo chuckled yet again at the fun rhyme. It wasn’t very often Reggie even used the nickname at all let alone in a deliberately whimsical way. “So uh, what can I do for ya Reg?” he asked. “I’m sure you’re not just here for the free electroshock therapy,” he added with a slight snigger.

Reggie shuddered at the notion; that was certainly an experience he never wanted to go thorough again. “Yeah, as _great_ as that was, I just needed a new string,” he replied, holding out his bass for Elmo’s inspection.

“Awww, poor baby got a broken string huh?” Elmo muttered sympathetically as he took the guitar; Reggie couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to be addressing the instrument more than him. “Damn Reg. You broke the thick one too. Be a little gentler will ya? I don’t think she likes it this rough,” he said, stroking his fingers lightly along the remaining cords as he stood carefully from his bed of pillows, dragging the still attached wires behind him.

Reggie rolled his eyes at the idea that his guitar actually had an opinion on the matter, watching as the absentminded rodent walked across the room. He couldn’t help being somewhat amazed at how Elmo seemed to be able to navigate around the small robots and other devices littering his floor without even really looking. The brief trip ended when he reached the peculiar dresser by his bed, the wires hooked into his spine stretching to their limit at the reach. The opening of the two doors revealed a supply of guitar strings the likes of which Reggie had never seen before all displayed in surprisingly neat rows along the walls of the cabinet. The captivated duck watched in fascination as Elmo rifled through several internal compartments in search of his stash of bass strings. A small sound of triumph told Reggie that he had located his target. Once the search had produced the cord in question, Elmo plopped himself onto the floor and set about restringing the guitar. It was incredible to watch him remove the broken string so quickly and put the other one in place as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

Elmo plucked at the newly replaced wire a few times as he stood to be sure it was in properly before handing the black bass back to the waiting mallard. “There, good as new,” he stated as he returned the instrument to Reggie, already nestling back into his mass of colorful cushions.

“Thanks,” Reggie replied, slinging the bass over his back and trying to get his hair under control as he stood. “Oh, I wouldn’t get too comfortable though,” he added with a glance over his shoulder, “Negaduck wants you in the recording room.”

Elmo whined pitifully in response, clamping his hands over his ears as though it would block out the undesirable information. “Ehhhh, you have GOT to be kidding meeee.”

Reggie didn’t blame him for being less than pleased, but he couldn’t help but snort slightly at the muffled muttering that followed as Elmo complained into his pillows. He decided a farewell was unnecessary considering it would probably just go ignored by Elmo at that point anyway. Back in the hallway, Reggie just let his mind wander as he walked slowly back towards the main hall smoking a freshly lit cigarette as he went. It was only by chance that he happened to catch sight of the slightly open door to his right. It wouldn’t have even grabbed his attention the way it did if it hadn’t been for the fact that the door wasn’t usually open at all.

Bud’s room.

Something about his recent look into Elmo’s private realm seemed to compel him to wonder what secrets the room might contain. He glanced around as though assuring that no one would catch him snooping before pushing the door open just enough that he could slip thorough the entry. The chamber was remarkably empty— such an extreme contradiction to the cluttered pandemonium that was Elmo’s residence. The first thing he happened to notice was a fair sized bed in one corner. He couldn’t deny being surprised; he wasn’t sure if Bud slept at all let alone in a bed, but what was far more captivating was the two impressive drum sets that took up most of the opposite side of the room. One was blazing red with intricate black designs across its many different components, a clash of color and madness on its twin bass drums. The other was more subtle and yet strangely more alluring. It was somehow exactly what Reggie would have expected the drummer to own: a strange physical representation of the canine that suited him in a way that was hard to explain. It looked like it had a thousand shades of blue in it, the designs practically blending in with the background and yet adding so much to the look of the sets’ shining surface. It was mesmerizing.

“Admiring my babies there Reg?”

The soft yet still playful question made Reggie jump more from getting caught than from the unexpected intrusion. He was starting to seriously wish that the watery drummer made more noise. “Sorry,” he muttered uncomfortably.

“Hmm, didn’t really say it bothered me, did I?”

Reggie offered only a shrug in reply.

Bud tilted his head bemusedly at him. “So, what do you think of my digs?”

Reggie thought this over for a moment considering what his opinion really was. “Well, I hope you didn’t pay your interior decorator too much.”

A stupid grin plastered itself on Bud’s face as he laughed at the observation. It was only so often plant-duck even remotely tried to be humorous and it always had the same enamoring effect on him. Reggie didn’t wait for an answer. He began wandering around the spacious room absently, pausing slightly when he reached the large bed set beside the towering windows overlooking the city.

Reggie tipped his head at the unexpected furniture. “There is one thing I don’t quite get,” he finally said.

“Oh?” Bud questioned, undeniably curious as to what Reggie wanted to know.

“Why the hell do you have a bed?”

Bud cocked a brow at him, amused and suggestive smirk snaking across his face. “Well, most ladies don’t appreciate having to screw on the floor all the time.”

Reggie flushed slightly as he realized how stupid his question actually was. “Right,” he mumbled, rubbing at the back of his head self-consciously. He couldn’t believe he was even going to ask it, but he couldn’t resist the curiosity suddenly welling inside him. “Does that actually… feel good?”

Bud was too shocked to reply at first. It took a moment for his head to wrap around the fact that Reggie had just asked him if sex was actually pleasurable to him anymore. It was a valid question. “Hmm, well, I suppose at this point I get off more on watching _them_ get off than anything else,” he answered, “But, if you _really_ want to know, having some pretty thing take a nice long suck off my water does actually feel pretty fabulous,” he finished, toothy smirk only extending when the answer made Reggie blush slightly.

Bud was sure the uncomfortable bird produced some sort of reply, but the mumbled and jumbled nature of the soft sentence made it impossible to discern. Bud couldn’t resist chuckling at him. Reggie was way too adorable when discussing anything related to sex. He couldn’t stop himself from staring at the slightly flushed mallard as the other mutant wandered over to the nearby crimson collection of drums. The action struck an intriguing thought in Bud’s mind. He slipped behind his favored instrument, pulling a set of sticks from the box he kept nearby. Liquid eyes remained focused on the distracted bird currently running his fingers over the intricate surface of the other drum set.

Bud smiled softly when Reggie finally looked over his shoulder at him. “Play with me,” he said in response to the questioning look, twirling the drumsticks between his flowing fingers.

“Excuse me?” Reggie questioned, eyes widening and brow cocking at the odd way in which the other man chose to word the statement.  

Bud rolled his sticks fleetingly against one of the snares to emphasize his request.

“Oh… you want me to play a bass line.” Reggie snorted slightly. “You wanna play with just the beats?”

“I’m not asking you to play one of our songs. I get the feeling you’re pretty sick of that at this point.”

The roll of blue eyes assured him this was true.

“Make something up. Or play one of them other songs.”

Reggie stiffened at the mention of the music he played in private. “What songs?” he asked nervously.

Bud swirled his eyes at the poor denial that the bassist knew what he was talking about. “The ones you wrote. I know you have. That little diddy you were singing earlier wasn’t off the top of your head.”

He was referring to the early hours that had preceded dawn: those special times when Bud rarely slept and Reggie suffered such horrible nightmares that he rarely _could_ sleep, when a lack of camaraderie and an excess of insomnia compelled the two to seek out one another’s company. The times Bud lived for.

“Who says I wrote them?” Reggie questioned softly, eyes refusing to meet Bud’s stare; he wasn’t even sure why the mention of the songs made him so uncomfortable.

“Lucky guess.”

“… alright, I suppose so.”

Bud’s grin widened to extensive proportions at the hesitant acceptance. Every moment he got to spend alone with the allusive mallard was a triumph, and listening to Reggie play his own songs had quickly become one of his favorite past times. The meld of the heavy beat of his drums and the deep tones of Reggie’s strings created a unique and surprisingly enchanting sound. Bud could have stayed lost in the private session forever, but Reggie’s ever present vice soon put an end to the dream-like moment.

“Where you going?” Bud questioned as Reggie turned to leave; he did a poor job of hiding the disappointment in his voice.

“Need smokes,” the departing bassist answered simply.

Bud couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering along Reggie’s form as he left, his entire being already aching for the other man to return. A heavy sigh sounded into the nearly empty room, flowing elbows perching on the drums in front of him as Bud rested his chin on his palms. It was increasingly troubling how much he needed to be in the leafy-bird’s presence, but he still couldn’t keep the smitten thoughts from filling his head with visions of green skin and purple hair, fingers dancing along thick bass strings and rarely seen smiles. Fluid lids slipped closed as the gorgeous thoughts filled his mind, shielding the reality of the world from his view.

It wasn’t long before the silence was shattered, a nearby shriek followed closely by a string of furious cussing roughly intruding on Bud’s quiet moment. The violent yells ripped the watery mammal harshly from the dreamy thoughts, coaxing him into a mad dash to Reggie’s room two doors down. What he found was chaos. The frantic bassist had practically torn the entire suite apart and was currently rummaging desperately in one of the elaborate dressers. The look the furious mallard supported as he turned back towards the entryway was beyond livid. Bud had never seen Reggie so angry; he was literally shaking with fury. It was suddenly very obvious that a certain local clown had finally gone too far.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Reggie growled darkly, already rushing past Bud and out of the room.

The drummer was too shocked to react at first, but he quickly pulled himself together, following swiftly after the furious mallard. He knew how quickly things could go from bad to worse when Reggie lacked sufficient nicotine supplies.

“Hey, come on Reg,” he said, trying to calm the building outburst, “Will it really kill ya to go a few hours without a cigarette? I mean, if anything it should kill you less… right?”

The furious glare Reggie gave him was more than sufficient to shut Bud up.

“Or… not,” Bud finished with an awkward attempt at a grin as Reggie spun back around.

Another deep snarl sounded when they found the devil room empty, Reggie flipping his petal adorned head back and forth sharply in search of Jack. The soft sounds of laughter from the small game room adjacent to the main hall soon made it all too apparent where his target was currently located. Bud sloshed urgently after the fuming mallard, following him into the secluded room where Elmo housed most of his massive video game collection and a weird array of various mechanized toys that the rodent had created with the aid of his usual partner in crime: the bird currently giggling in his ear as he tinkered with some small mechanical marvel.

“QUACK!” Reggie roared, both guitarists jumping in response, “Do you wanna tell me why the HELL all my smokes are gone?!”

Jack’s eyes bulged in shock at the genuine viciousness in Reggie’s demeanor. “Oh, my _gawd_ Mo!” he whispered loudly to his companion. “I _totally_ forgot where we hid all Reggie’s cigarettes.”

Elmo scratched at his head stupidly. “We did what now?”

“Remember that game with the grapefruits?”

“….. With the sledge hammer and the go-kart?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

It seemed to require some additional thought for Elmo to pull all the pieces from his memory before he could reply. “Oooh yeeah. That was fun!” he finally answered, obnoxious laughs following the recollection of their arbitrary antics.

Jack cackled madly at the stupid look on his friend’s face and the memories of the bizarre situation that had resulted in Reggie’s missing smokes.

The laughs didn’t stop.

Reggie was absolutely furious by that point. His rarely seen anger welled up, driven on by the chortles still ringing in his ears, and he finally snapped. Reggie launched himself onto the couch, wrapping both hands roughly around Jack’s collared throat. There was a feral satisfaction in the feeling: a lingering sensation of victory in the faint pressure of the soft feathers against his leafy skin. Reggie was beyond thinking of the other man’s wellbeing; he cared only about the thought of silencing the inane cackles still sounding in his head despite the fact that they had already stopped.  

Reggie only barely registered the feel of watery hands gripping his legs, trying to pry him from his prey. Elmo squeaked in horror at the unexpected attack, joining the fight to free his friend from the plant-duck’s fury. He pulled desperately at Jack’s waist, wrapping his arms around the duck’s exposed midsection and pulling with all his might. To most, the picture that the four painted would be somewhat comical, but to the irritated mallard that barged in it was a mix of annoying and purely repulsive. The gruff clearing of his throat brought all but Jack’s attention to the furious singer glaring at the rather uncouth display. Bud was the first to really register how compromised they looked. He glanced down at the promiscuous position Reggie’s crotch was currently in, noting how suggestive it must look with him pulling the bassist against his hips. Even Elmo, with his own lower half pressed perfectly against the struggling rhythmist’s backside was less than savory. Bud suddenly felt as if he they been caught in a very dirty act.

“When you ladies are done with… whatever the hell kinda messed up fuck fest this is, kindly join me in the devil room… and be fucking QUICK about it!” Negaduck said.

Reggie’s brow twitched erratically as the other mallard turned to leave, his focus quickly returning to the chocking bird in his grip. It was quite obvious he had little intention of letting the other go just because Negaduck said so.

“Come on Reg, let him go,” Bud pleaded, trying to talk some sense into the irrational mutant. “He’s not gonna learn his lesson from this anyway.”

Reggie growled at the truth in the statement. Deep down he knew it wouldn’t change a thing, but that didn’t stop the feeling of gratification he received from finally silencing the chortling fool for once. 

“I’ve woken up with potatoes in my bed. Had my hair dyed hot pink. Been groped by you _every_ chance you get AND had to listen to that GODDAMN LAUGH of yours over and over and OVER for WEEKS now, and I’ve put up with it!” Reggie paused for a moment, the pressure of his hold increased slightly as he stretched his face closer to that of the gasping duck in his grip. “But if you EVER fuck with my ability to smoke again I _will_ maim you,” he said with a savage snarl, finally removing his hold on the other bird.

The abrupt release made Bud’s stance falter, causing him to land on his wet back with Reggie on top of him. He barely had time to shudder in pleasure at having the other man in his lap before Reggie lifted himself up and stomped from the room. Bud flowed slowly to his feet, leaning an elbow on the couch to observe Jack’s condition. The deeply gasping mallard was on his knees, chest resting on the sofa and Elmo still situated behind him much as he had been when still trying to free him.

Bud chuckled at the stupid grin that slid across Jack’s face. “You alright there Jacky?” he questioned.

“Is it totally wrong that I am _waaay_ turned on right now?” Jack replied with a slight laugh, tongue lolling stupidly from his mouth.

Bud rolled his watery eyes at him; he knew the overgrown child wouldn’t learn anything. “You don’t have an off switch, do you Jack?”

“If he does I sure as hell haven’t found it yet,” Elmo muttered as he helped his still slightly breathless companion from the cushions and back out into the large adjoined room.

The brief chat ended abruptly when they finally joined their fellow musicians in the massive main room, the sight of the two furious mallards within banishing any thoughts they might have had about continuing the conversation.

Negaduck didn’t even bother to let them sit before beginning his rant. “Do you all _like_ making me suffer? Is that it?” he questioned, his tone instilled with a false sense of patience. “Cause let me tell ya, I’m getting pretty TIRED of you all wasting my fucking time!”

There was no reply.

“We have ONE NIGHT LEFT! What do you all not fucking GET about that?!” Negaduck continued when none of them offered an answer.

“Well, what the hell do you expect?” Bud said, “We’ve been doing nothing but play metal nonstop for _months_! You gotta let us OUT of this place for a while. We’re goin’ postal here!”

“Sounds like a personal problem,” Negaduck snarled. It effectively silenced the drummer’s objections. “You’re not my issue anyway, it’s YOU two!” he continued, pointing accusing fingers at both Reggie and Elmo. “ _Especially_ you!” he finished, turning the full force of his fiery glare on the slumping lead guitarist. “I swear you’re just getting worse! Why the HELL is that?!”

“Cause you’re pushing him too fucking hard that’s why!” Jack snapped, not even waiting for Elmo to say something in his own defense.

Negaduck’s expression only grew in malice and ferocity at the outburst. “I shouldn’t have to hold all your hands just because shit-for-brains is too much of a goddamn junkie to remember what the hell he’s supposed to do!”

The statement finally ripped Elmo from his mental freeze. “I’m not a junkie!” he yelled, teeth baring in a vicious display.

The look only served to send Negaduck into a round of deep, growling laughter. “Oh, right Sparky,” he snorted, moving to grip at Elmo’s wrist so he could stretch the slim arm out. “And I suppose these are birth marks, huh?” he questioned, bringing attention to the delicate scars littering the underside of the appendage.

Reggie had never noticed the track marks before, the rodent’s course hair hiding the telltale injuries from view, but when exposed the evidence of his years of drug abuse was painfully apparent. Elmo’s courage sank instantaneously at the baring of the old wounds. The look of pure discomfort and indignity was painfully evident on his face. He finally managed to yank his arm away from Negaduck’s harsh grip, bolting instinctively behind his nearby companion. Jack was fuming. His large jaw trembled from the pressure of his clenched teeth, his mask-clad and normally playful eyes narrowed in fury. It was obvious that he was forcing back a serious outburst.

“Go on faggot, say something. I _dare_ you,” Negaduck responded with a growl, red eyes narrowing in warning.

Despite the malicious glare, the evil grin that slowly crept across Negaduck’s face betrayed the fact that he would derive great pleasure from a spirited confrontation; he wanted the other mallard to try something. Jack knew it, but his long established need to protect his younger companion was hard to ignore. His whole body shook for a moment, his face twisting into a furious snarl. He wanted the man’s blood bad, and it was very hard to keep himself from stating that need. Jack finally settled for a pissed off mix between a grow and a yell, grabbing Elmo by the bicep more harshly than he intended as he forced the other man out of the room with him.

A suffocating silence followed their departure, the heavy quiet breaking only when a deep growling laugh began to build within Negaduck. He was soon cackling evilly at the small bit of fun he’d manage to coax from his subordinates, turning almost lazily to make his way back down the hall that would return him to the solitude of the recording room. The maniacal laughs followed him all the way down the long passageway as he went, making Reggie shudder slightly at the disturbing quality of the evil chortles. At least it seemed that Negaduck’s slightly elevated mood would give them a brief break from the torture. Bud blinked stupidly at the singer’s departure, trying to wrap his mind around everything that had just happened. The two mutants shared a shocked look, neither sure what to say or how to react. Bud was the first to recover, suddenly struck with the inexplicable desire to laugh uncontrollably. Reggie couldn’t help the lopsided grin that spread across his face in as the other man’s silly giggling continued. He was certainly going to enjoy the brief reprieve from the others.

As long as someone got him some damn cigarettes.

 

* * *

 

It was one of those rare quiet times once again. It was a peaceful stint that seemed almost unreal amid the smothering tension still suffocating the entire metropolis, and Bud was completely lost in the moment. Nothing compared to the feelings elicited within him whenever he was graced with the opportunity to just sit and watch Reggie play. It was not often that he was allowed the privilege.

Both mutants were simply enjoying the brief serenity. It didn’t seem to bother Reggie that the Bud was watching him, but the still present tension kept either of them from really knowing what to say. Bud didn’t mind. He found the soft sound of Reggie’s bass soothing, and he was more than happy to just sit and stare at the other man as he played. For once the self-conscious mallard didn’t seem to care much about the observation. Leafy fingers just continued to play, the music drifting softly from the small amp at his side and freshly obtained cigarette smoldering in his beak. Bits and pieces of his different songs began to meld together in a captivating way as Bud listened pulling him further into the trance. How many early mornings had he slipped around the manor searching for the elusive melodies in the darkened halls? It had become Bud’s favorite time of day. He was used to being alone at night since he never really slept anymore. He required little more than brief naps since his transformation and often took to wandering the mansion’s many passages absent-mindedly as he waited for the sun to rise and the others to awaken. Reggie had changed all that.

The perpetually restless duck had been plagued with nightmares ever since he had first joined the band, and as much as Bud hated knowing the cause behind them he loved that it had given him someone to spend the lonely dawns with. It had started as sly observation, Bud sitting himself outside the bassist’s bedroom door and just listening to Reggie’s hypnotic singing, but it wasn’t long before the elusive mallard began to wander to different places within the vast home in an attempt to ease his restlessness. While searching the many rooms for the other musician, Bud finally managed to get caught following him around. He was surprised that Reggie didn’t mind much. The early hours soon became a strange ritual between them: the only time Bud could coax a few drinks down Reggie’s throat and just talk with him. There was nothing he would have traded for the few truly serene moments they shared, but they never lasted long.

It was no unusual source that broke the stillness this time. Jack’s advance from the upstairs could be heard long before he breached the entry into the common room. Volatile swears of rather impressive merit in their creativity and general revolting content filtered down the corridor. Reggie’s jaw dropped at the sight of the angry mallard. It wasn’t so much the depth of loathing in Jack’s eyes that struck him, but the disheveled mess of flaming hair obscuring the angry orbs. The bright red hair framed furious eyes, giving the dark mood a more menacing quality. It was not the first time Reggie had seen Jack without his beloved hat, but it was an extremely rare occurrence and he was sure he would never get used to the sight.

“Bud,” Jack growled, “Make me a drink. And it had BETTER be strong… and fruity.” The fact that he was grinding his teeth as he spoke was extremely obvious.

“Strong and fruity. Just the way you like your men, eh Jacky?” Bud asked with a slight snicker.

“Damn right.”

Bud chuckled at the reply, throwing a moist arm around the sulking mallard and leading him from the room. “Whatever you want babes.”

Reggie certainly didn’t mind at all when Bud ran off with the fuming musician. He found Jack uncomfortable to be around when he was acting normal, but on the rare occasions when he was truly furious it was just plain disturbing to him. Bud seemed to have the strange talent of calming the fiery jester.

Reggie had been sitting in silence, smoking and just staring out the window at the firelight dancing across the inky clouds when his solitude was interrupted yet again. He hardly noticed when Elmo entered the room. Only the muted sound of steel toes clinking slowly and softly on the ground alerted him to the other man’s presence. The miserable rodent looked dejected and defeated as he trudged towards him. The wires usually hanging from his body were absent giving Reggie a rare glimpse of the six metal inputs on his back. The small, circular ports were each surrounded by a slim radius of scared skin, the areas long since unable to grow hair. Elmo dropped himself exhaustedly into the cushions beside Reggie, hiding the scars from view once again.

Things were silent for a few moments before Elmo finally tipped his head towards Reggie. “Hey Reg?” he said quietly.

“…yeah Mo?”

“Hook a brother up with some cancer.”

The smile Reggie produced in reply was small and brief but sincere nonetheless. He pulled two cigarettes from his newly acquired pack, lighting them both before handing one over to the stressed rodent.

Elmo inhaled deeply, letting the smoke billow slowly from his muzzle and nose. “Yeeeah that hits the spot,” he muttered, eyes slipping closed as he sunk deeper into the couch cushions.

Reggie smiled again.

Several more silent moments passed as the two smoked before Elmo spoke again. “Thanks,” he said simply.

“Don’t mention it.”

The reply was almost immediately followed by an unexpected answer from Elmo. The crazed rodent’s eyes widened at the complaint of his hungry midsection, almost unable to believe that the sound had actually come from him. Reggie cocked a brow at the comical grumble, resisting the amused smile that once again tried to snake across his face.

“Uuuugh,” Elmo groaned, rubbing at his stomach with both hands. “Wow, I don’t usually say this… but I am SUPER hungry,” he muttered.

Reggie rubbed his chin briefly in thought before lifting himself from the rough sofa. “I think I can fix that,” he answered.

He couldn’t deny enjoying the toothy grin Elmo produced in response. It would never cease to amaze him how much he actually enjoyed the other guitarist’s company. He shook his head as he turned to lead the way to the kitchen.

 _Dangerous thoughts Reggie._ He thought to himself. _Dangerous thoughts._

* * *

 

 

Despite the naturally sullen nature Reggie usually displayed, there was one thing he couldn’t deny: he actually rather liked to cook. It was one of many random skills he had picked up along his travels, but it was one of the few that he actually got any enjoyment out of. Of course, up until only a few weeks earlier he didn’t have a reason to do any cooking in the manor. A number of trials had since made it very clear that he could no longer eat normal food, but no matter how much sun and soil helped he had still been craving more sustenance. He couldn’t help being put off by the idea of ingesting the dirt at first, but the more he had rubbed the dark earth between his fingers, the more the normally repugnant smell filled his senses, the greater the desire to consume the soil had grown. The taste was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. It was undeniably earthy yet almost sweet like sugar, and it had quickly become a flavor he couldn’t get enough of. He soon took to mixing the fertilizer with normal foods, trying to recapture the flavor of some of his favorite things to eat. The cooking created a repulsive odor to most, of that Reggie was sure. He’d gotten complaints about it from both Jack and Negaduck more than once, but to him it smelled like a slice of heaven and thanks to Elmo’s poor sinuses he didn’t much notice the smell at all.

Reggie had to admit Elmo’s presence in the kitchen was somewhat pleasing. He found he rather enjoyed having the other man around to keep him company as he went about making food for them both—even if Elmo did have the odd tendency to start muttering to the appliances. The more time he spent around the constantly perplexed mammal, the more obvious it became that he was the youngest of them. In a lot of ways Reggie suspected he was mentally younger than he really was anyway. That’s what really made his electrical genius so very impressive. It was such a strange and oddly intimate contradiction to the rest of his nature, and for some reason, it seemed to be part of what Reggie liked most about him.

“Oh my _God_ , this is so fucking amazing,” Elmo practically moaned as he bit into the latest culinary delight that had set before him.

Reggie had made everything from soups to soufflés, driving the resident voltage addict into an eating binge the likes of which he had never experienced in his life. Reggie smirked softly at Elmo’s enjoyment. He couldn’t deny that he’d been having fun over the past two hours making all his favorite old foods for him, and with so many ovens and supplies available he was able to amass an impressive selection of delicacies for the picky rodent. And make some fertilizer-inspired treats for himself while he was at it. The latter was what drew a still sullen, loud-mouthed mallard and his watery cohort to the kitchen.  

“It smells like shit in here!” Jack griped, nose curling in repulsion the moment they entered the room.

“Probably cause Reggie’s cookin’ with crap,” Elmo mumbled around his mouthful of food as Jack dropped himself in the chair beside him.

“And yet, this is the only thing that _doesn’t_ taste like shit to me,” Reggie added, slipping into his own seat as he set his latest muddy creation on the table.

“Smells normal to me,” Bud added matter-of-factly as he flowed past them to acquire more fruity ingredients to concoct another drink for the still pouting mallard behind him.

“Oh, whadda you know?” Jack mumbled, “You can’t even smell.” For a moment he just sat there sulking, chin resting on his hands and displeased look still stuck on his face before a glance to his side finally seemed to lift his mood a bit. “Well,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair to stare at his happily munching companion, “I guess I can’t complain too much if you got Mo to stuff his face like this.”

“Damn right!” Elmo replied excitedly, voice still muffled by his stuffed cheeks. “He’s a better cook than cook is!”

“The cook is named cook?” Reggie inquired, cocking a brow at them.

“No, that’s just what his dumb ass calls him,” Jack replied, “He just refers to all the servants by what they do.”

Reggie hummed softly in reply, observing the two guitarists wordlessly for a moment. He was surprised at how grateful he was that the jester had replaced his trademark hat. It was somehow extremely disconcerting seeing Jack ‘all natural’, and having him wearing his more vibrant red and blue cranial accessory was a relief. Jack had even changed the usual black and white stripes normally covering his arms and legs to ones with a more colorful blend of purples. Reggie snorted slightly at the wardrobe change. Now if only he would just put on a shirt.

“Hehhe,” Elmo laughed nasally as he noted the Jack’s colorful state, “You are soo breaking the color rule right now. Negs is gonna beat your fine ass if he catches ya.”

“Pfft, Negs can _suck_ my foot long. I don’t give a shit right now. I want my fuckin’ colors!”

“Well, just be careful Jack,” Bud said as he returned with some blue-tinted and fruit filled intoxicant for the mallard. “You’re only allowed to be colorful at parties.”

“Well, I now declare this a party,” Jack grumbled, taking his fresh drink from the dripping dog with one hand and reaching into his pocket with the other to produce a handful of confetti. He threw it into the air, the festive feel of the raining bits of colorful paper turning somewhat sour when coupled with the angry pout on Jack’s face.

Bud shook his head in bemusement at the moping man child; he was quite accustomed to Jack’s severe mood swings. He knew that Jack would be back to his normal self before too long, but the potential fury that was hidden just beneath the bubbly surface was often unsettling even to him. Bud didn’t even the chance to produce a reply before the bane of their existence decided that they’d had enough peace for one day.

 “BUSHROOT!” Negaduck’s angry voice bellowed from down the hall, “What the fuck have I told you about cooking that shit in my house?!”

Reggie swallowed his mouthful of earthy food nervously, eyes shifting back and forth as though searching for the cruel mallard. He practically jumped out of his skin when the singer appeared briefly in the doorway, fists clenched in rage.

“GET OUT HERE NOW!” Negaduck roared curtly before disappearing once again. “ALL of you!” he yelled from down the dark passage.

Jack fumed at the annoyed yell. He was all too aware that the last part pertained to him in particular. Elmo practically had to drag him from his seat to get him to follow, Jack refusing to leave before obtaining another drink to accompany him. He was unwilling to even fully enter the room when they arrived, still stubbornly refusing to being anywhere near Negaduck.

“You’d better get your ass in here faggot,” Negaduck snarled when he realized the rhythmist was still hovering by the door.

Jack cursed vile things at him under his breath, slipping further into the room but staying by the far wall, arms crossed and displeased frown firmly planted on his face. It was obvious he was attempting to remain as far from the shorter duck as possible.

“Alright fuckers, listen up,” Negaduck grumbled, pacing back and forth in front of them as he tried to sort out his own thoughts. “SO… everyone keeps bitching about being stuck here and since you are all WAY too annoying even when you’re _not_ bitching,” he actually paused to groan, rubbing between his eyes to try and lessen his headache’s assault. “I’ll let you have a fucking party.”

Jack and Elmo shared a happy glance before throwing their hands into the air excitedly.

“Party!!”

“Don’t celebrate yet assholes, you haven’t heard the conditions.”

“Awwwww,” they whined in unison.

Negaduck turned angry eyes on them, snarling at the annoying complaints as he made his way to the small bar near them. “Shut up!” he snapped, pulling a bottle of randomly selected alcohol from one of the many shelves. He didn’t bother with a glass, opting instead to just take a long drink straight from the bottle before continuing. “First of all we are _not_ leaving. We’ll have the damn party here. Those assholes can come to me. SECOND, you,” he said pointing at Reggie, “and ESPECIALLY you,” he continued turning on Elmo, “Need to FIX your fucking parts first! And you had sure as hell better convince me that you know them well enough to not fuck things up for me tomorrow! Then you can have your goddamn party,” he finished, dropping his head none too gently on the bar where he had just sat.   

Jack and Elmo sat silent for a moment, almost as though they were assuring that Negaduck had finished, before producing yet another tandem response.

“PARTY!!”

Negaduck groaned at the elated and annoyingly childish cries. He was starting to regret his kindness already. “I am _way_ too good to you dickholes.”

Jack had already moved from his spot against the wall and was concocting his own drink from the selections at the bar where Negaduck sat. “Oh yeah you’re a real doll Neggers,” he muttered darkly, jumping onto the counter and crossing his legs as he swirled his new drink.

Negaduck lifted his head to snarl at him, bill curling in disgust as he seemed to finally notice the currently bare state of most of Jack’s person. “Put some fucking clothes on,” he griped, turning his back to the bar so that he could rest his elbows on the surface behind him.

Jack sneered immaturely at the other duck, making faces behind his back once he was no longer paying attention.

Bud resisted the urge to chuckle at the spectacle. “Face it Jack, you’re just too affectionate for Negs,” he said teasingly, trying to break some of the tension in the room.

“How can you consider _anything_ he does affection?” Reggie questioned grumpily.

Bud shrugged indifferently in response. “I’ve rather come to enjoy Jack’s unique brand of affection.”

“Damn right you have Buddy boy,” Jack purred lustily, winking suggestively at him.

Elmo’s eyes widened at this, glancing from Jack to Bud and back over and over as his mind struggled to put the pieces together. “Wait,” he finally said, lifting a genuinely confused brow. “You’ve fucked Bud?!”

Jack’s rolled his eyes at the question: it was not the first time it had been asked. “Baby you’ve walked in on me fucking Bud at _least_ twice. You just never remember it.”

“That’s just plain repulsive,” Negaduck growled, “I thought you had better standards drip face.”

Bud fumed slightly at this, gaze narrowing irately. “Oh right, and raise your hand if you _haven’t_ fucked Quack,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

The comment immediately elicited a displeased groan from Negaduck. “Ok, new rule,” he growled, dropping his pounding head back onto the table top. “No one is EVER allowed to remind me that I’ve been anywhere near the faggot’s cock again!”

The seriousness in his tone couldn’t stop the impish and amused grin from painting Elmo’s face. “Don’t always have to be standing _too_ close to be near Jack’s cock,” he muttered softly, unable to keep his snickers at bay.

Jack burst out laughing, holding his fruity drink to the side to keep it from spilling. Negaduck growled gutturally in response to the amused cackles, removing his head from the hard surface it was resting on to give Jack a sharp punch in the jaw.

“Oowww! What’d the fuck you hit ME for?!” Jack griped, rubbing at his face angrily, “I didn’t even say it this time!”

Negaduck snickered evilly. “Yeah, but you are _way_ more satisfying to hit.”

Jack glanced at the smirking singer. It was obvious that for once he was actually thinking about his actions. “You like hittin’ on me Negsy?” he finally asked, obviously deciding against the voice of reason in his head.

The second time he took a large bottle to the face.

“Uuuuh! Will you all LEAVE so I can rest in peaceful misery?!” Negaduck growled as the other duck rolled on the ground in pain.

The entire band perked up at the request. The four shared a silent glance, the recognition of the common thought evident between them. They wasted little time making good on the request, each slipping quickly from the room; none of them cared where they ended up as long as it was away from the softly snarling mallard behind them.

The reprieve lasted only so long, Negaduck seeking each of them out at least once to hound them to fix something or make sure everything would go well the next day. Despite the continued harassment, the unruly singer soon had himself locked away once again as he finalized the fruits of their labor, leaving the exhausted musicians with a moment of peace and quiet. The few hours of downtime found the four congregating together in the devil room. The two resident mutants were situated together much as they had been earlier that morning, Bud getting a jumpstart on the night’s inebriation and Reggie sitting beside him plucking at his bass. As much as Reggie had been attempting to avoid them all, Jack’s constant pestering had quickly convinced him to give up the battle. He found he didn’t mind too much though. Now that Jack was calmer at least. The jester was sitting with his favorite bandmate between his knees, teasing the rodent’s spiked hair into a mohawk. Elmo just seemed to be enjoying the contact, tail wagging slowly back and forth on the floor and his fingers still strumming at his guitar as Jack doted on him.

“Ugh, your hair is so oily,” Jack griped, finally breaking the quiet mood, “You haven’t been bathing have you? You _know_ are REQUIRED to take your weekly baths!” he scolded as he stared in disgust at his own fingers.

“I already had my baths this week,” Elmo retorted in a childish, mocking tone.

Reggie snorted slightly at the way the guitarist stuck his tongue out as he said it.

Jack sighed indignantly at his uncooperative companion. “Fuckin’ HELL you’re a little brat sometimes.”

“Am _nooot_!” Elmo whined, plucking swiftly at his guitar strings in his frustration.

“Ah, give him a break Jack. Not like it’s gonna fall out if you go one day without primping him,” Bud chuckled, his slight drunkenness already showing.

“HA! Do you know what it takes for me to keep this idiot’s hair this luscious and soft?” Jack retorted, burying his fingers deep into the thick hair.

The skillful digits slipped through the strands, massaging the rodent’s scalp and making his back arch with pleasure. Elmo quickly forgot the brief spat, spine shuddering in response and guitar practically falling from his grip at the talented stroking.

“Besides, he absolutely _adooores_ this part,” Jack finished with a purr, staring amorously at the expansive grin on his blissful companion’s face. 

Reggie cocked a surprised brow at the unexpectedly intimate display. The heat in his cheeks alerted him to the uncomfortable blush that was just starting to paint his face, giving him his cue to leave. He slipped swiftly from the couch, making an inconspicuous escape to the balcony. Not that his attempted stealth really did anything. The two guitarists were hardly paying him any mind; they had much better things to do, and the only other occupant was all too aware of his actions. He always was.

Bud didn’t hesitate when Reggie made his way from the room, slipping sneakily after him through the still slightly open balcony door. By the time he stepped fully out onto the terrace, Reggie had already lit a cigarette and was staring off across the city. It was all too apparent that Reggie didn’t notice him. He was tipping his head into the wind, eyes slipping closed at the soft, refreshing feeling of the evening breeze. Bud’s mouth opened slightly as he stared at the unaware bassist, savoring the way the light of the sunset struggling through the layers of smog painted fiery rays across his face and hair. Even the way the light wind was ruffling his purple petals was strangely arousing. He blamed it on the alcohol. Bud wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

For once it was Bud that was caught off guard when the other mutant quickly spun around. He smiled somewhat stupidly at the small look of triumph on Reggie’s face. There wasn’t anything he could think of to say, but it didn’t really seem necessary anyway. Bud slipped over to join Reggie where he stood, dripping forearms resting against the balcony edge so that he could observe the dimming horizon with him. The oranges and reds painted the sky in a burning display that almost promised the hectic night that was to follow, the smell of smoke and chaos drifting towards them on the hazy wind. Reggie tried to ignore the heavy beat of his heart, but the collective cries of thousands of eager, destructive fans made the task very difficult. Bud could almost feel the other man’s inner turmoil; all at once it was as though he could see exactly what was going on in Reggie’s head.

“Why are you here Reg?” Bud asked softly. “Being in the spotlight ain’t exactly your thing.”

They’d all been thinking it, but any time the question came up Reggie would just ignore it.  

A long moment passed before Reggie answered. It was obvious that he was a little unsure what to say. “Guess I just wanted to be famous for a change,” he finally answered.

Bud snorted loudly. “Bullshit.”

“Look, I just thought it might be nice to know where my next meal was coming from for a while. For people to _not_ treat me like dirt. For the world NOT to shit on me for once!” Reggie retorted, turning annoyed eyes on the other mutant. He paused the rant for a moment as he tried to collect himself, taking time to inhale deeply from the smoldering cigarette in his hand. “And what do I get?”

“Negs,” Bud replied, unable to resist a slight chuckle.

“Negs,” Reggie muttered irately. “No matter where I go or what I do I end up with the worst possible outcome. Story of my life.”

Bud’s entire body went cold at the mention of the worst possible outcome. Reggie had no idea the situation he’d truly led himself into this time. The drummer’s depression was suddenly back full force.

“What?”

Bud was taken aback by the question. “I didn’t say anything,” he answered uncertainly.

“Doesn’t mean there isn’t something you keep wanting to tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Bud muttered unconvincingly, turning his eyes away from Reggie as though to keep him from reading the deception in his eyes.

“You’re such a fucking liar,” Reggie grumbled darkly.

“Hey, I don’t lie!” Bud snapped defensively, “I just… conveniently forget to mention things sometimes.”

Reggie snorted irately at the response, suddenly very annoyed at the water-dog. “Oh, right, like you _conveniently_ forgot to mention that only CHICKS call you Buddy right?” he said, narrowed eyes turning on the dripping dog.

Bud’s entire body stiffened. He had been wondering why Reggie had stopped using the name. He produced the only excuse he could think of. “Jack calls me Buddy.”

Blue eyes narrowed at the response. “Too late I already went there.”

Bud was lost for words. He didn’t even know why it bothered him so much that the mallard now knew the truth—aside from the fact that it meant Reggie would no longer be using the name.

“Well it’s not like it even means anything!” Bud finally replied, still attempting to defend himself. “It’s not a big deal,” he grumbled, crossing watery arms over his chest

Reggie shook his head at him, turning back to the darkening landscape. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” he muttered. “You’re fucking lying to me right now.”

“Look it’s just something I associate with affection alright!” Bud yelled, finally tiring of the accusations. He paused as the realization of what he had just revealed sunk in. A heavy sigh sounded at the unintentional baring of his heart, resigning the fluid canine to complete his thought. “Even if it is shallow affection,” he finished softly.

Reggie was unsure how to react. He just stared at the suddenly disheartened and slightly slumping drummer. As much as he’d been trying to ignore that there was a deeper side to the seemingly easygoing dog, at moments such as that it was impossible to ignore. Did Bud really desire his friendship that badly? He sighed indignantly at the melodramatic display, gathering his thoughts to respond. Before he had the chance, the roared summons of their leader drew them once again back into the manor. Reggie couldn’t help but notice how grateful for the interruption Bud seemed to be. Somehow the drummer’s constant attempts to keep his own guises in place were becoming very annoying. He sighed heavily as he followed the wet trail Bud had left behind. Back inside, Bud had already situated himself beside Jack and Elmo, waiting for whatever spiteful yelling Negaduck was there to deliver this time.

“Well ladies,” Negaduck said once they were all accounted for, “it was more of a pain in the ass than you could POSSIBLY imagine… but you have finally managed to produce something that _doesn’t_ make me want to tear my own eardrums out.”

A collective sigh of relief sounded at the news. The soft noise seemed to agitate Negaduck somewhat but it didn’t stop the sinister half-grin that his bill was soon supporting. “Now the _real_ fun can begin.”

 

* * *

 

The ruthless pound of metal music, the hazy layer of smoke slowly filling the space, the heated entanglement of dozens of bodies all around the room: these were all sure signs of yet another party courtesy of St. Canard’s most venerated residents.

The hours found Reggie mostly isolated from the rest. He had been trying very hard to remain aloof as the party preceded, eventually making himself essentially invisible to the increasingly intoxicated mass of metal fans around him. Nervous fingers tilted the glass in his hands lightly as he watched the various groups littering the room, the amber liquid inside swaying gently as the vessel was tipped back and forth. No matter how interesting some of the congregations were, he couldn’t seem to stop himself from watching a certain watery canine. Bud was captivating to observe. The beaming smiles that kept slipping across his face caught Reggie’s attention more than anything— so false in the shadow of the true emotion that seemed to be showing through. Reggie was suddenly very curious how no one else seemed to notice the blatant lie the expression was truly telling them. In that moment, he found himself so drawn into observing the dog from a distance, so lost in all the little things he’d never seemed to notice before, that he was quite unaware when another soft-spoken and solitary-seeking bird slipped over to join him.

“He’s fascinating to watch, isn’t he?”

Reggie jumped at the soft question, clutching his chest and breathing a sigh of relief when he noticed it was only Darla.

“Hmm,” Reggie hummed uncertainly in reply.

The aging duck smiled gently at him, placing a slim, unlit cigarette in her bill. Reggie glanced to the lighter in his hand, lifting it so that she could use the now burning flame to lite the slender cylinder. He watched in captivation at the way the strands of smoke seemed to dance around the mature beauty, taking his eyes off her only when a loud round of unruly laughter brought his attention back to the drummer he had been observing.

Reggie rolled his eyes in amusement at the two dogs. “Well, he certainly is interesting to watch when he’s with Benny that’s for sure.”

Darla chuckled softly, offering no other reply as she waited for him to continue.

Reggie was a bit uncertain how he planned to respond at first, surprised to find that he did genuinely want to confide in her. “I guess I just never really noticed…” he trailed off, thinking for a moment, “how little of himself he really lets people see… you know?”

Darla stared at him thoughtfully for a moment, genuinely intrigued by the question. “Heh, Benny and Buddy. What a pair they do make.” She chuckled slightly at the thought of the two mammalian miscreants. “Well, they _are_ pretty much the same. Both charming, attractive and talented men, hiding behind those happy façades and trying to drown their troubles in their favorite inebriating libations… I suppose they’re both just caught in a vain and desperate fight for that haze of euphoric reality that is all simply an illusion. But then, aren’t we all?” she finished with a lighthearted laugh.   

Reggie couldn’t help but find her behavior that night as somewhat odd; not that he was going to mention it. “What’s your role in all this?” he finally questioned, his voice barely audible above the brutal barrage of music still filling the room.

Darla seemed somewhat shocked by the uncharacteristic boldness of the question. The timid mutant was not normally one to be too interested in asking any questions let alone one that might lead to information he didn’t really want to know. “Hmm, well that is a complicated question,” she replied, “but I suppose the simple answer is that I own the label that signed them. Benny was my partner… Dear Benjamin and I, partners in greed and partners in guilt for letting lose that maniacal menace on the world.”

The soft and eerily pleased laughs that Darla produced at the thought made Reggie shudder; he’d never been quite so shaken by the elder duck. All at once, the outer kindness gave way to the ruthless, gruesome business woman that was truly hidden just below the surface. Darla rather liked the chaos, and it suddenly showed very clearly.

“Legally we are the ones that have control, but he owns us all Reggie,” she finally finished as her chortles quieted.  “I suppose Benny always felt far more regret about it than I did. Part of why he drinks after all. But then, I imagine that’s truly my fault. I was desperate for someone to share my success and burden with and he was so very talented… and so young.” She trailed off as the memories filled her thoughts, her eyes seeking out her younger business partner.

The distant, almost dreamy look was a shock to Reggie. Her memories were suddenly so apparent on her face that he could almost see her entire life story laid out before him.

“So young,” Darla finished softly.

All at once, it was so obvious: the depth of emotion and insanity contained within the lovely bird, her relationship with her much younger business partner, the extent of her role in the current condition of St. Canard, _all_ her memories of times long passed. A silence fell between them as Darla produced another cigarette, lighting it with her dying one and tipping her head back as she inhaled slowly and deeply from it.

Reggie shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to react at first. “Well, what about Jake?” he asked at last, compelled to break the unsettling silence more than anything.

“Oh, he is an interesting story,” Darla chucked in reply.  “He was their first bassist you know.”

The response elicited a shocked expression from the man beside her.

“You heard me green-stuff. First one ever. And he’s the only one you will find alive today,” Darla paused, gaze returning to where her chuckling companion was still taking shots with Bud. “I honestly don’t know _exactly_ what happened to him, but he has never been the same since.”

“… what do you mean?” Reggie asked nervously.  

Darla turned a thoughtful eye to him momentarily as she thought over her reply. “That man is a devourer of souls Reginald… Keep an eye on yours lest you become an empty husk like the rest of us.” Her grin returned. “At this point we are just content to simply live under his rule,” she added, raising her glass as though toasting to their demented, red-eyed ruler. “Jake, me, and of course my dear Benjamin,” she finished, staring passionately at the handsome canine.

As though he could feel her gaze, Benny’s eyes were soon upon them, stupid grin slipping across his face and drunken legs leading him their way.

“Speak of the devil,” Darla purred, her soft voice once flowing from her bill like the finest of silks. “Benny dearest!” she called happily to the approaching canine.

“Darla, Darla! My darling, darling Darla,” Benny sang with a slur as he staggered gracelessly towards his old friend and lover. He wrapped an arm around her waist, the action serving to hold him upright as much as acting as a show of affection. “Ya wanna know sometin’?” he slurred, “An I don care if it sounds totally cliché, especially comin’ from a drunk person n’ all, but I freakin’, _love_ you. Seriously! I don’t throw tha word around every day.”

“Oh, I know you don’t darling. That is why I adore you so much,” Darla replied, rubbing a finger playfully beneath his chin.

“I friggin’ love when yur sappy,” Benny replied, unable to resist the chortling fit that hit him as his very favorite friend lead him away.  

Reggie shook his head at their departure, trying to ignore the unsettling feelings still stirring within him. His mind was reeling from what Darla had said. She had produced more questions than she had provided answers that was for sure, and it was undeniably unsettling. He suddenly needed another drink very badly.

From across the room, watery pools eyed him as he moved. Robbed of the distraction of his boisterous, inebriated friend, Bud was having a very difficult time not getting lost in the leafy vision making his way stealthily across the room. Even though Bud had been keeping his distance that night, he couldn’t keep his wandering eyes from continually seeking Reggie out. The watery orbs hungered for the sight, begging for relief from the deep incurable yearning that only the moody mallard could state. There was never a moment he didn’t ache to be in the other man’s presence, and it was increasingly worrying to him. Behind the enamored thoughts and burning heat that Reggie’s presence filled him with lurked the darker knowledge that something horrible would happen. It ate away at him, festering inside and nagging at his deepest feelings no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

Bud was not alone in being plagued with such thoughts. Reggie had become so used to the drummer hanging around him all the time that he was near panicked by the group of fans surrounding him. He hated to admit how much more uncomfortable he had been that night without Bud nearby. Reggie didn’t like to think that he was craving the other man’s company, but no matter how hard he tried, staring at the fresh glass of liquor in front of him was not sufficient to keep the thoughts at bay. Luckily for him there was a far more ample source of distraction making its way towards him.

The loud, drunken bickering that drifted his way announced the approach as the two guitarists moved closer. Reggie cringed slightly at the shrill sound of Jack’s shouts chasing the pouting rodent currently retreating away from him. The jester was having little luck getting Elmo to respond and it was obviously becoming increasingly annoying. It wasn’t until the pair was only a few feet away from Reggie that his childish griping finally seemed to have the desired effect.

“Well maybe just ONCE it’d be nice to go out and NOT have to watch you offer sex to _every_ man in sight!” Elmo screamed, finally turning furiously on Jack and gaining the attention of anyone in the near vicinity that wasn’t completely trashed.

“What do you want from me?” Jack replied heatedly, “I _do_ have needs Sparky.”

This seemed to snap a rare cord within Elmo, his entire body stiffening at the answer. “NEEDS?!” he yelled, “I spend 80 percent of every DAY fulfilling your NEEDS and you’re trying to tell me you’re more interested in all of them than just me?!”

Jack crossed his arms over his chest, pouting expression displaying the fact that he didn’t want to admit what he really felt. “Pfft, you’re just another piece of ass baby,” he grumbled.

“Oh, _please_!  Name one person you want more than me.”

“ _Oooh_ , you _really_ wanna know whose tail I’ve been wanting more than YOURS, do ya?” Jack replied darkly.

He sought out Reggie’s location almost immediately, terrifying look filling his eyes as he quickly crossed the space between them. Reggie was instantly petrified; he didn’t like the aggressively playful look at all, but he didn’t even have a chance to defend himself before he was pushed forcefully against the wall behind him, his neglected drink falling to the ground with a shatter.

There were several things Reggie learned immediately: Jack was stronger than he looked, and he had an extremely long tongue. He practically gaged as the slippery appendage slid deep into his mouth, attempting to tease his own slick muscle into a spirited battle. There was a certain sick sinking of his gut as the realization hit him that his first kiss had just been stolen from him—by _Jack_ of all people. Reggie tried to ignore how upset the thought made him. A glance in Elmo’s direction only served to increase his discontent. Even behind the dark lenses, it was difficult to miss the desire-hazed look in Elmo’s eyes, the possessive lust welling within him showing through the black glasses. He couldn’t just stand by and watch the spectacle for long. Reggie struggled harder when Elmo joined the groping, desperate to get away before he was pulled into a forced threesome. The rodent almost immediately latched onto Jack’s neck, biting aggressively along the feathery flesh as his hands roamed the familiar form of his lover. A soft moan from the guitarist in his grip was proof enough that Jack enjoyed the forceful behavior; it was what his entire outburst had been attempting to elicit in the first place.

Reggie wasn’t sure how or when but Jack soon had the long coat covering his body hiked up to his waist, feathery fingers groping his woody backside and twining between his tail leaves while Elmo held him firmly in place. Reggie was almost too shocked to react beyond fighting against the furry hands pinning his wrists against the wall. He finally managed to force his sharp talons against the other bird’s exposed abdomen, pushing Jack away with his foot and ducking past the insane duo. Jack hardly even seemed to notice the hasty retreat, spinning around immediately after Reggie pulled away to force his companion into a bruising kiss. Elmo’s legs gave out under the needy embrace, the two falling to the floor in a jumbled pile. He immediately flipped them over so he had Jack pinned beneath him, his tail flipping around in the air energetically as he groped his lover. They had little interest in Reggie at that point.

Not too far away, Bud had been watching the display with furious eyes. His fluid burned in his anger, steaming beneath the force of his growing rage. There was something in Reggie’s horrified expression that revealed secrets beyond the blatant disgust produced by the actual person that was kissing him. It was something Reggie had never experienced before at all: it was his first kiss. The one that Bud hadn’t even entirely realized he’d been craving to take for himself. Reggie was completely oblivious to the drummer’s inner turmoil. He had quickly relocated to their bar and was now downing the premixed beverages at a disconcerting rate. When the already available drinks ran out he began to search frantically for the strongest alcohol he could get his leafy hands on.

“Looking for something special Reggie dear?”

Slightly widened eyes turned towards Sapphire, blinking stupidly at her for a moment. Reggie swallowed his mouthful of alcohol sheepishly at the lovely female’s abrupt appearance, shuddering none too becomingly at the burn of the liquor. “Yeah,” he finally answered, his voice slightly hoarse from the alcohol abuse. “Whatever gets the taste of hooker-clown spit out of your mouth the best.”

“Hmmm,” Sapphire hummed in thought, slipping sensually closer and pushing down the latest glass Reggie had grabbed as he lifted it to his bill. “Well, I don’t know about a drink, but I know something _better_ that will get that taste off your tongue.”

Reggie swallowed audibly when the soft sentence was followed by the gentle contact of silky feathers on his chin. The obvious intent of her actions nearly pulled his heart straight out of his chest due to its fervent beating. Total panic took over. Reggie had never been too eloquent with any form of desire. For the most part he preferred to ignore that he even had such feelings, but he was an animal after all, and even with his more recent plant-like disposition he was still an animal, and he still had such feelings. The thought only served to shake the nervous bassist even more. The fact that he had no idea what he was doing combined with the knowledge that anyone could be watching made him chicken out despite what he wanted.

“I-I gotta go,” Reggie stammered, falling gracelessly away from the alluring bird and rushing off towards the large staircase and the promise of solitude that it represented.

Sapphire licked at her bill as he rushed away from her, his resistance only making her hunger for him more. She pulled out the small mirror nestled within her clutch, fluffing her hair and straightening her dress to give him a small head start before pursuing leisurely.

From across the room, liquid eyes were still watching, a torrent of anger brewing behind them. A gale of emotion barely held back over the last few months was steadily slipping from Bud’s control, and as he watched the lovely bird slip after his companion a surge of possessiveness welled inside him. He knew what would happen if he allowed them to be alone; he knew what would happen, and it made his blood boil. A cord snapped. A barely audible but guttural growl sounded in his feral frustration as he slipped to the floor and flowed silently after them.

Reggie was barely even aware of where he was going as he slipped through the dark passageway that led to their rooms, images of perfect curves and gorgeous eyes haunting him as he ran. He didn’t give it a second thought as he slipped into the first room with an open door that he came upon. Alone in the chamber, he willed his drunken mind to clear, pressing his back against the heavy door and breathing deeply to try and calm his racing heart.

“Great Reggie, let _Jack_ get your first kiss and then run away from the bombshell,” Reggie grumbled to himself, groaning miserably at his own pathetic actions.

Reggie snorted after a glance around the room told him he hadn’t even gone to the right place. Even through the shadows, it was quite simple to distinguish Bud’s room from his own, and he suddenly felt rather stupid for his mindless actions. Reggie grunted in annoyance, pushing himself away from the door and wandering towards the captivating indigo drum set currently glittering in the moonlight. There was something about it that seemed to draw him close: a resemblance to the dog himself that instilled a similar state of fascination in the mutant mallard. He couldn’t resist the desire to stroke his fingers along the shimmering blue surface, the feeling of the cool material beneath his leaves making him shudder inexplicably. Reggie was so lost in the tantalizing patterns painted along the sleek surface of the drums that he didn’t even notice when the door behind him opened, his alcohol-numbed mind completely oblivious to the soft sound of heels against the floor. 

“That wasn’t very nice you know Reggie,” the breathy voice said from behind him, bringing bright blue eyes to focus immediately on the provocative avian now staring at him. “Gives a girl the wrong idea when you run off like that,” Sapphire continued, slipping slowly closer to Reggie as he moved away from the drum set. “Don’t you think I’m beautiful?” she whined, mock hurt in her voice as she batted her eyelashes pathetically at him.

“Fuck yes,” Reggie breathed, letting his eyes wander down her form.

His voice was barely audible, but Sapphire heard him nonetheless. A deep flush painted Reggie’s face when he realized what he had just said. And that she just heard it.

Sapphire’s expression quickly turned from playful teasing to a satisfied smirk. “Oh, _really_?” she hummed.

Sapphire reached behind her neck, pulling at the slim strings on her dress. With a simple and fluid slip of her fingers the thin tie keeping her large chest contained was released, the silken fabric slipping in tantalizing ripples down to her waist. Reggie’s eyes bulged at the reveal of the gorgeous body. Sapphire couldn’t resist the soft giggles she produced at the stunned expression on Reggie’s face, relishing the dazed and obviously aroused look he produced at the unexpected exposure of the supple, ivory breasts. Reggie had never seen a naked woman outside of a magazine, and it was a sight he couldn’t deny enjoying immensely. It showed quite clearly and it was just the sort of ego boost that only made Sapphire hotter. She rather enjoyed that he couldn’t take his eyes off her chest meat as she slipped closer.  

“It’s not very nice to stand up a lady like that Reginald,” Sapphire continued, advancing on the frozen bassist. “I think you need to make it up to me,” she said, swiping a finger teasingly down the exposed part of Reggie’s chest and pulling at his coat to uncover more of the green flesh.  

Reggie was too dumbstruck to respond beyond allowing the tantalizing bird to push him backwards until his knees gave way when they hit the side of the nearby bed. He stared stupidly at Sapphire, jaw hanging open and heart pounding wildly. Her sultry stare held Reggie’s own gaze captive, keeping him from noticing when she began slipping her skirt higher. It certainly didn’t take him long to register the lack of undergarments against his currently bare thigh.

Sapphire savored the shocked expression and dark blush that followed, leaning in closer at the reaction. “Touch me Reginald,” she whispered, her soft breath brushing against Reggie’s bill as she spoke.

Reggie swallowed audibly in response. He glanced down at the exposed lower half seated in his lap, reaching his hands out timidly. Lightly quivering digits hovered just shy of touching the soft, curvy backside, Reggie biting at his bottom bill as his nerves failed him. Sapphire rolled her eyes in momentary frustration, finally growing tired of the game. Feathered fingers gripped his hands swiftly, forcing them the rest of the way to her enticing rear. Her fingers were downy soft, the silken feathers leaving a sensation of tingling delight against Reggie’s own appendages. The round cheeks now clenched beneath his hands increased the pleasure of the sensation tenfold. Reggie trembled harder at the new experience, his blush spreading until his entire face shone deep green with proof of his uncertainty and excitement.

It made Sapphire’s entire body burn with want. “Has anyone ever told you that you turn the most _delectable_ shade of emerald when you’re nervous?” she purred, leaning in close enough that the very tip of her beak touched his.

Reggie shifted his eyes away at the question, his already green tint only deepening in his embarrassment. It was exactly what Sapphire had wanted. She laughed lightly at his inexperience and general discomfort. Despite his uncertainty, the heavy pound of Reggie’s heart against her bare bosom and the tentative curling of his leaves against her toned backside were more than proof of what he wanted. The beguiling vixen loved nothing more than making men lust for her. And she knew Reggie wanted her badly.

A sharp slam shattered the silence, shocking both birds and bringing their gaze to the furious watery form now standing in the entryway. There was no denying the bubbling fury that welled within Bud at the sight before him, soft growls falling continuously from his mouth as he stared them down. The stunning seductress with his moody love obsession beneath her, Reggie’s hands still pressed beneath her dress, only increased his irrational anger. The snarl he produced at the scene left them both shocked from more than just getting caught.

Sapphire was the first to recover, straightening her back and resting her hands against Reggie’s torso for support as she addressed the shuddering canine. “Why hello there cool lips,” she purred, hiding her annoyance behind her usual sensual tone. “Come to join us did you?” The teasing was not sufficient to hide the fact that she was not actually in the mood to share her blushing virgin.

“Get out,” Bud murmured, watery teeth clenched against his internal fury.

“Well now Buddy darling, I’ve never known you to be quite so rude. What’s the matter? Feeling left out?”

Sapphire knew what had brought him there and it had nothing to do with her. She’d seen his possessiveness from the beginning, and it had obviously grown. Bud didn’t answer right away. He was too busy glaring at the cause of his heavy heart, the alcohol clouding his mind and holding back all but his feelings of frustration. The months of longing and desperate desire were all pulled to the surface at once and it was quickly driving him mad.

“Get out,” Bud repeated, his voice barely a hiss, “I need to have a chat with _Reginald_.”

“Excuse _me_ darling, but you can go fuck yourself.”

Bud snarled harshly at the reply, fluid eyes narrowing furiously at the gorgeous bird. He latched onto her arm, pulling her none too gently from Reggie’s lap. “I said get out Sapphire!”

Sapphire yanked her arm away from the rough grip, immediately pulling her dress back up once she was free. “What the HELL is your problem?!” she yelled, meeting the enraged stare Bud was still giving her.

Bud didn’t respond at first, unable to react beyond shaking in fury. “Get out.”

Beautiful features warped into an angry sneer at the repeated command. “I’m going!” Sapphire finally answered, yanking the door behind her open harshly before continuing, “You’ve marked your territory,” she snarled, slamming the heavy barrier behind her.

Reggie had never seen the normally poised woman in such an angry state and it left him dumbfounded. He hadn’t moved an inch, his brain too clouded with lingering arousal and intoxicant to produce much of a reaction. He just sat there, dumbstruck and staring at the bubbling drummer before him.

“What the fuck Bud?!” Reggie finally managed.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Reggie gaped at the stupidity of the question. “Are you fucking joking?!” he yelled.

Bud all but ignored the string of angered complaints that followed. “What the hell are you complaining about?! You’re in one piece aren’t you?” he snapped, his mind only growing more irrational as his rage mounted. “Might not have been if that bitch woulda had her way with you,” he muttered to himself as an afterthought.

“Yeah, sure,” Reggie answered angrily, “What the hell do _I_ have to complain about? I’ve just been groped, forced to choke on slutty _clown_ tongue and now I just got cock blocked! Quite frankly I’m getting pretty sick of ALL of you! Do you have any idea what you’ve been doing to me?!”

As the final sentence passed Reggie’s bill, the last, thinly held strand of Bud’s composure broke and a flood of repressed emotion burst forth. His water boiled in his fury. “Do _I_ know what I’ve been doing to _YOU_?” he growled darkly, “Do you have any idea what you’ve been doing to ME?! What I’ve had to endure for you and because of you over the past four months?!”

The suddenly deep and furious tone made Reggie swallow subconsciously in dread. He didn’t like the look that suddenly filled the aqueous eyes glaring at him.

“All this time I’ve done nothing but try to help you and you’ve been nothing but callous and resistant!” Bud paused, his form hunching and his look suddenly filled with depression. “I just thought… maybe you’d see that I…” The dejected look faded as quickly as it had come, unrestrained malice filling Bud’s eyes once again. “But you’re just fucking oblivious to it aren’t you?! Blind to the feelings you cause!”

In an instant the light advance had the now petrified bassist on his feet backing away from the crazed drummer.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Reggie snapped, rounding the small table behind him for a semblance of protection from the watery fiend.

“YOU’RE WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME!” Bud screamed, the months of pain and frustration seeping from his voice. “The depth of feeling behind that blank face of yours! How much fun it is to be around when you _do_ kinda let your guard down!” he paused, form shuddering in frustration. “And then of course there’s all the things you don’t even fucking _realize_ make you alluring,” he continued, rounding the table that Reggie had placed between in a vain attempt at a barrier. “That tall frame, thin waist. The exotic nature of your appearance in general… those eyes.” With each sentence he moved closer, his pace stopping as the last words passed his fluid lips.

Despite the liquid disposition of his own eyes the lust-filled haze that suddenly clouded them was blaringly obvious to Reggie. An instinctual bolt of his body found the terror-filled mallard with his back literally to a wall. The pace of his breath intensified as the other mutant continued his flowing advance. Unfortunately for him that it only made him look more tempting to the lust-crazed drummer.

“Those _eyes_ ,” Bud finally repeated, his voice low and animalistic. 

The blatant arousal in the words snapped Reggie from his fear-induced freeze causing him to bolt urgently away from the approaching canine, backing as far away from him as he could. “You’re fucking crazy Bud!” he yelled, rather impressed how much of his fear he managed to hide with the angry tone. “Stay the fuck away from me!” he added when his evident distaste for the other man’s increasingly obvious intentions went ignored.

Bud didn’t reply. It was as though his mind was no longer in the livid, bubbling form still advancing on the cringing bassist. There was nothing Reggie could have said to get through to him. Pure panic set in. In a last ditch effort to save himself from what he was sure was to come, he made a mad dash for the door. There was no good it could have done; Reggie never stood a chance. Like a predator with its prey mere inches from death, the second the frightened avian made his move Bud attacked. He caught him with a terrifying ease that left Reggie flailing in horror.

Reggie pressed desperately at the watery arms now encircling his waist kicking his feet futilely against the churning fluid at his back. “LET ME GO! DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!!” he screamed, his frantic struggles never ceasing as his anxiety amplified. The distressing hold dredged of feelings of fright that went far beyond the mere moment: a fear that contact only led to pain.

Bud just growled gutturally in response, throwing the struggling plant-duck back up against the wall he had just come from and pulling his slim arms over his head so he could pin them in place with his shaking fists. In that moment Reggie was allowed a brief chance to meet the deep pools of azure anger that were usually so mesmerizing to him. Now the blue eyes only made his blood go cold. With a display of teeth and an eerie snarl the moment ended, Bud swirling his water forcefully against Reggie’s body as he pressed the other man’s bill against his flowing muzzle. For a second it was something like a strange bruising kiss, but Bud’s actions quickly became more aggressive.  Reggie choked at the vicious stream of fluid that was pushed down his throat as the fervent mammal forced him to drink in his water. Reggie was just thankful it was brief, liquid limbs freeing his hands as Bud’s body disintegrated.  He hacked desperately when the treatment stopped, falling forward and coughing water as the moist barrier gave way. Bud’s fluid form caught him just before he hit the ground only to force his chest roughly against the hard surface moments later.

Reggie struggled against the powerful hold, trying to push his upper body away from the tiled floor. “You’re fucking crazy! How the hell do you even expect to fuck me?!” he screamed, his continued attempts to use the angry tone to mask his fear falling painfully short.

Bud growled at the question. He pulled the quivering mallard’s rear against him, moving him to his knees while keeping his chest pressed to the floor. Reggie didn’t like the position one bit. The besmirching water surged roughly against his hips, the plant-like skin instinctively soaking in the stimulating stream, pulling on it as though to fill every inch of his being. Reggie’s eyes widened at the unexpectedly erotic feel, his feet scrapping erratically against the ground as his desperation to get away grew. 

“There,” Bud panted deeply, his voice low and laced with desire, “Mystery solved.”

Reggie really wished he hadn’t finally spoken, the feral sound of the other man’s voice only increasing his fear. Bud gripped his plant-like body again, touching whatever bare skin he could get his gluttonous hands on. He yanked the black coat higher on Reggie’s shuddering body, pushing the fabric roughly up to his chest so that he had better access to the irresistibly smooth frame. The moment the green skin was exposed he pressed his body against every inch he could find, swirling his water in forceful, stimulating streams against the tender and delightfully responsive flesh.

Reggie cried out in horror, petrified by the arousal of the situation. His screams would do no good, the noise from the still raging party nearby drowning the cries in the excessive volume. His struggles became even more feverish and frantic at the feelings assaulting him. Wooded talons continued to scrape futilely against the ground as he tried to escape the unwanted touches, but no matter how hard he tried, there was nothing he could do. Every time he tried to push away, Bud always managed to pull him back into the same position. He was absolutely powerless against the aqueous menace, and it terrified him. Nothing would give him reprieve from the defiling warmth. The heat spread through every crevice of his body, growing especially torturous in his groin. It was an extreme violation, and he didn’t like it one bit. Unfortunately, his body didn’t quite agree. Even though it was such sensation unlike Reggie had ever felt before, even he was capable of recognizing it for what it was. The harsh reality of the sexual excitement revived Reggie’s terror full force. He struggled harder, dry sobs falling from his bill at the realization. The cries drowned in the shaky, uncontrollable moans that followed, the arousing strokes of the crazed drummer continually forcing the primal calls of pleasure as Bud pressed his churning water against Reggie’s responsive skin. The feeling only grew worse when Bud began to buck his hips against him, letting out soft grunts every time he did. The savage sounds made Reggie shudder pathetically in his distress. He really didn’t like how the particular stream beneath his tail leaves mimicked how another more tangible appendage might feel especially when coupled with the thrusting.

The assault of pleasure and painful treatment soon left Reggie with little energy to do anything beyond quiver in the puddle surrounding him, his entire body shaking severely. He tried to detach himself from the situation entirely as he’d always done with his fear in the past, but the horrible, delectable heat still tormenting him made it all but impossible. He sunk trembling teeth into his lower bill, trying desperately to silence the traitorous sounds of enjoyment he was letting forth. His face tinted dark green in shame. Reggie couldn’t stop his body from pulling in the water as much as Bud was forcing it in, and it was a delight to the watery form behind him in a way the drummer would have never believed possible.

Bud was completely lost in his own world of ecstasy, a vastness of sensation the likes of which he had never felt before; it was as much a new experience to him as it was to the still trembling mallard gripped forcefully in his arms. The tingling heat swirling in his wet body instilled a feeling of euphoria within his churning form that was the closest to real pleasure he’d experienced since his transformation. And so much more. He shuddered at the excess of stimulation, gripping Reggie harder and pulling a sharp gasp from the mallard as he subconsciously forced his water against him as hard as he could. It was more than Reggie could take. His slender frame arched to unnatural proportions, pressing his back forcefully against the body behind him—much against his will. He was beyond control of his actions. Quivering bill parted and blue eyes widened to their limit at the feeling that spread through him. A choked, almost painful sounding moan was torn from his throat as his floral skin began to force the still churning water from their permeable walls. Bud groaned uncontrollably at the feeling as Reggie began to return his own water to him, his form bubbling more forcefully: boiling in the shared feeling of the forced orgasm. He gripped the leafy mutant beneath him tightly as he flowed them both into a sitting position, Reggie’s body jerking slightly as he continued to force a steady stream of Bud’s liquid pleasure from his body. The feeling finally pushed Bud over the thin edge on which he perched, the torturous heat flowing from the bassist’s body finally taking him over completely. He lost control of his shape, Reggie falling none too gently onto the hard floor in the process. Bud caught himself as best he could as his own body rained to the ground. He reformed just above the shaking duck beneath him, sitting on watery knees and holding himself up by his arms, one perched on either side of Reggie’s exhausted body. He relished in the lingering feeling of pleasure sending waves through his fluid form.

The satisfaction of the moment was extremely fleeting.  Once the pleasure and alcohol induced haze cleared his mind he was able to think far more clearly. Reggie’s now exhausted body was slumped lifelessly against the ground, his breath coming in low, heavy pants. It was painfully obvious that he lacked the energy to even lift his head from the floor. Through the damp bangs Bud could see the look of betrayal in his weary blue eyes. The pained gaze cut through him like a jagged blade, forcing the full implications of what he had just done on him. Everything had happened so fast that he could hardly believe it had just taken place, and as he realized the pain he had caused, he suddenly wished more than anything that he could take it all back.

“Reggie… I—” Bud cut himself off as the soft words snapped the shaken duck abruptly out of his mental block.

The hurt look was quickly replaced with rage as Reggie flipped himself over, using his heels to push away from the drummer as quickly as his sitting position allowed. Vine-like arms wrapped around his still shaking and soaked body once he had forced his back against the nearby wall. “Don’t you EVER fucking touch me again,” he hissed, the deep, angry tone attesting to his pain despite the whispered nature of his words.

Bud swallowed around the sick feeling in his throat as he tried slipping closer to the cringing bassist. “Please,” he begged, “ Reggie, I-I-”

The continued attempt to apologize along with the closer proximity only prompted Reggie abruptly to his feet, arms never leaving their self-embrace as he backed frantically away from the approaching drummer. “Just stay away from me,” he whispered, some of the malice in his voice already being replaced with misery as he shifted his coat back to its original position. “… stay away from me.”

Bud’s heart broke at the repeated sentence as he watched Reggie run from the room. His head hung with regret, shame, and utter misery, his whole body slumping once Reggie was gone. He had never forced anyone in his life and now he had just done it to the only person he’d ever had genuine feelings for.

If he were still capable of crying, he would have.          


	9. The Concert

If there had ever been a dawn so grey, Bud could not recall it.

The anguished dog had been watching the inky sky slowly fade to pale morning for hours, completely lost in a personal hell of his own making. All he saw was darkness no matter how high the sun rose. It felt like the entire world had been sucked of its life, deprived of its very essence as though some false haze of fantasy had been stripped away to bare the world for what it truly was: desolate and grotesque. It was a bitter sight, forcing Bud to face the memories of all the blissful sunrises he had spent with his favorite floral-bird. The watery form shuddered in the cool air, Bud’s will to hold his shape quickly fading as the morning slipped into the early afternoon and the time when he knew he would have to face the others grew nearer. A group of heavily hung over metal stars could hardly be expected to rise before noon, but the concert would wait for no one, and Bud knew his solitude couldn't last much longer. His fluid seeped from his perch atop the massive manor, sliding back down to the nearby balcony and into the kitchen. A miserable sigh was all that gave evidence of the aquatic mammal's pain as he curled up at the table. The memories hurt more than anything at that moment, the knowledge of what he had done festering inside him and eating away at his entrails like some horrid, caustic acid. He'd never felt so sick to his nonexistent stomach. Miserable azure eyes lifted slightly upward as though he could see the tormented bassist through the walls separating them.

It was the last thing Reggie would have wanted. After what had happened, just the thought of the water-dog made him shudder in dread and sneer in pure repulsion. Problem was, he couldn't _stop_ thinking about him. Within the confines of his room, the mutant duck lay shrouded in darkness, curtains closed against the growing light outside. Reggie was curled up as much as possible in the shadows, legs pulled to his chest and slim arms wrapped tightly around himself. He was quickly weakening from lack of sleep and sun, but he was too far gone to even notice let alone care. Nothing he did could stop the incessant shudders running through his thin frame. He felt cold all over. Five scalding showers had failed to free him from the lingering feeling of Bud's fluid still coursing within his body—that feeling of violation and vicious pleasure. He hadn't really slept at all. Hours had passed marked by nothing but his occasional panicked panting, the frantic sounds acting like some eerie clock ticking down his final moments. Reggie was almost completely deaf to the sounds. All he could hear was Bud's horrid grunts of desire: the echo of primal passion still defiling his thoughts. He could still feel the phantom caress of watery hands forcing pants of disgraceful desire from his own mouth. His stomach lurched at the thought of his own pleasure. The confusion of his enjoyment almost tore at him more than the pain of the betrayal. Just the thought of the foreign feelings of arousal dredged up by the crazed drummer made Reggie's entire body cringe. His eyes widened at the memories, the orbs already strained and red from the tears that refused to fall, but only a soft, choked cry bore testament to the inner turmoil as Reggie struggled to replace the fear with fury. A soft snarl sounded into the dark room. It was all the trembling duck could do to keep the complete mental breakdown at bay. 

"BUSHROOT!"

Reggie flinched at the sound of his name, curling in on himself even more as though trying to escape from the retched noise. He snarled at the door when several sharp bangs forced further intrusion upon his solitude. Reggie didn't answer but it didn't stop the frustrated singer outside from continuing.

"Get your lazy ass out of bed before I drag it out!" Negaduck yelled, slamming his heavy boot against the door to make sure the demand sunk in.

Reggie scowled at the order but still offered no reply as he tried to convince his body to move from the mattress. He forced his feet to the ground, barely the courage in his stance to make them move at all. His heart pounded in the force of the panic attack that was trying to surface. He forced it away, numbing his mind to the memories that sank their claws in like a savage beast attempting to tear his fragile spirit to pieces. He was afraid of the emotions—petrified to be more accurate. He forced it away as he finally convinced his legs to move. His steps were sluggish, almost drained of every ounce of life. It was as though he was not really there at all, his body surrendered to the world around him to use and dictate as it so desired. Reggie didn't even look at his bass as he grabbed it, only the steely feel of the black guitar's heavy strings against his fingers gave any proof that it was even there. He paused by the large mirror, daring to take in his own reflection. The image was disgusting. He'd never felt so disgusted by himself. Shaking fingers lifted a cigarette to his bill as he stared at the repulsive duck in the shining surface. Reggie did his best to ignore how the digits trembled as he lit the slender cylinder. The nicotine brought him back to reality, forcing him to remember that he would have to leave his room sooner or later. The sickened scowl quickly slipped away as he forced the feelings to hide. The blue eyes staring back at him were now half-lidded and blank, steeling the emotion away behind an unfeeling mask. If only it could truly help.

Back downstairs, another groggy avian was just making his way sluggishly towards the oversized kitchen and the drummer within. Jack was dressed from head-to-toe in black and white, donning one of his most intricate outfits for the elaborate concert that would start in just a few hours. He groaned at the assault of the bright lights overhead, using the gloves in his hand to shield his eyes and cursing his hangover in hopes that the mumbled swears would force the ailment to go away. He was almost too dazed to even notice that Bud was in the room at all. Only the faint flash of blue at the edge of his vision really alerted him to the other's presence. Bud certainly noticed him. He had never wanted so badly to just be alone, terrified that Jack might immediately see right through him and catch sight of the disgusting act he had committed only hours earlier. He slumped in shame as Jack made his way along the back counter to obtain some coffee. 

Jack threw his black gloves on the tiled surface as he poured the dark brew into his favorite mug, content to feel the overwhelming warmth against his palms as he turned to rest his back against the counter so he could address Bud. "Uuunnngh, this is seriously gay," he grumbled, eyes still half closed against the bright lights overhead "… and not the good _butt sex_ kind." Jack urged one eye fully open when he received no reply, pushing his hazy vision to take in the sight of the miserable dog across the room. "Oh, man Buddy," he said, "You look like I feel."

Bud groaned at the notion, turning his head away in disgrace. "You have no idea," he replied.

Jack took the response as a similar feeling of exhaustion and annoyance that he himself was feeling. "Yeah, well I woke up with two chicks and at least five basic household appliances in bed with me. How was _your_ night?" he said.

"I don't wanna talk about it," Bud mumbled.

The response caught Jack off guard, his mildly playful attitude quickly slipping away as he finally forced both eyes focus completely on his now obviously upset friend. Bud didn't even have the courage to look at him. Before Jack had a chance to question could possibly put the dog in such a state, the soft clicking of wood on tile signaled the slow approach of the answer to his question.

Reggie wasn't even looking where he was going at first, his back hunched and his eyes cast upon the floor, but the sight of Jack's complexly designed boots soon coaxed his gaze to lift; he was suddenly very unprepared for being in the presence of others. Blue eyes crept across the room, terrified to confirm the sight of the other occupant that he already knew was there. The reaction was immediate. Reggie's face twisted instinctually into a furious display of his anger and agony, his still smoldering cigarette falling to the ground in the process. He didn't even notice the hash growl he directed at the drummer, but Bud couldn't have missed it if he tried. The snarl was deep and furious and yet sounded more akin to a wounded animal than one about to attack. Bud had gotten the message clear enough: Reggie didn't want the water dog anywhere near him. His swift departure from the kitchen drove the point home and left Bud feeling physically pained.

Jack was far too busy staring stupidly at the departing bassist and trying to wrap his mind around what just happened to notice the tortured look on Bud’s face. " _Geez_ , what the hell crawled up _his_ butt?" he questioned, his brow still lifted in confusion.

Bud couldn't control the sobs that came at the comment.

The reaction caught Jack very much off guard. It was not the normal depression dredged up by too much alcohol, this was a depth of feeling and heartbreak that duck had never seen from Bud before, and it was somewhat terrifying. "Whoa, Buddy… what the hell happened?" Jack questioned gently.

"I—" Bud hung his head, struggling to continue. "I really fucked up Jack," he whispered. 

Jack cocked a confused brow at him, lost for a moment before things started to make more sense. His lower bill dropped as the realization hit him, a sharp gasp sounding at the revelation. "Oh. My. GOD! You screwed him didn't you?!" he gasped.

Bud could barely hold back the horrified cries that threatened to fall from his mouth. "You just don't understand Jack," he choked out with a shake of his head, "He's… he's not like the others."

Jack blinked stupidly at him for a moment, trying to piece together what the other man was really getting at. He scrutinized the watery mammal closely trying to pick through the liquid layers as thought it would reveal his secrets. The uncomfortable way Bud tugged at his collar in response to the scrutiny was enough to finally make it all very clear. Jack's eyes went wide as all the pieces began to come together in his mind. Bud had been hiding a depth of feeling that his fellow musician hadn't even realized, and it was now very obvious; Bud didn't just have feelings for the moody bassist, he was in _love_ with him.

"Bud! Not…" Jack trailed off, glancing from side to side as though to assure they were alone, "The _L-_ word," he finished softly. 

Bud's refusal to meet his gaze was answer enough.

"I mean I _knew_ you wanted to fuck him but—" The look of utter self-disgust Bud produced cut Jack off abruptly. There was something more to the story.

Bud sighed, collecting his nerves to answer the questions he knew were now stirring in his friend’s head. "It's worse than that just that, Jack," he paused taking in a shaky breath to try and collect himself, "I- I, I r-ra… I-ra-" His sobs returned with a vengeance, cutting him off before he could finish. Bud was genuinely afraid to say the word; just thinking it made him feel ill.

Jack had gotten the message well enough. His mouth hung open in his shock. "You… you actually-"

The angst-ridden weeping came again, Bud completely unable to control it as his entire body shuddered in hysterical waves beneath the force of the cries. He put his face in his hands, shielding the world from his view and willing it to go away completely—willing it to all just have been a horrible dream.

But it wasn't.

No matter how hard Bud tried, it would not erase what he had done. Jack's gaze softened as a rare moment of remorse overcame him. He didn't particularly like having to deal with more serious situations, but whether he wanted to admit it or not the watery canine held a special place in his heart, and knowing that his own drunken actions that night had quite probably contributed to the act only made him feel worse. Tender eyes regarded the still crying drummer with genuine empathy: a rare emotion reserved for very few in the drake's life. Jack stepped slowly closer, placing downy fingers gently on Bud's wet shoulder. Fluid digits slid slowly from azure eyes as Bud lifted his head to meet Jack's comforting gaze. Without a word the rhythmist slipped into his lap, Bud immediately burying his face in Jack’s chest as the mallard wrapped his arms around him. One hand clutched Bud's shaking shoulder as the other rested amid his watery locks, skilled fingers stroking through the fluid strands tenderly in an affectionate ritual unique to them. Despite the horrible shame and regret still eating away at him, Bud was grateful for the affection just as Jack knew he would be. The gentle stroking always seemed to elicit a feeling of comfort within Bud that nothing else had ever been able to. It was a brief safe haven amidst the hellish reality he had built up around himself. It felt like hours before Bud was finally able to compose himself enough to pull his face from the jester's comforting plumage, resting the side of his head against Jack's chest in a final grasp for comfort. Jack rubbed his ear gently as his sobs turned into barely contained whimpers of despair. His tortured moans drowned in the furious shouts that followed.

"FAGGOT! DRIP-FACE! Get the fuck out here! NOW!"

Jack growled at the malicious yells, glaring in the direction of Negaduck’s voice. Bud sighed heavily, pushing Jack gently from his lap as he finally gathered enough courage to stand. He was suddenly too uncomfortable to even look at the mallard. Jack regarded him with concerned eyes, trying to decide what he could possibly say that might help. He finally turned from the slumping drummer and made his way over to the back counter to retrieve his gloves. Skillful fingers slipped the black fabric on with ease, Jack pausing in the doorway to regard Bud once again. The dog still wouldn't face him.

"Some things happen for a reason Buddy boy…" Jack finally said, his voice soft and filled with obvious sympathy, "Try to forget you ever cared about him." Without another word Jack slipped from the room, leaving the water dog behind him with nothing but his own emotions.

Bud failed to hold back the final sob that followed. They both knew that wasn't possible. He didn't even have the nerve to hold his head up as he trudged after the departing bird. It almost kept him from noticing when he finally entered the main room, but the smothering tension was all but impossible to ignore. Bud lifted his head slowly to finally face the rest of the band. Jack had situated himself over by the stairs where Elmo was sitting, hair still shaped into the mohawk his companion had given him the night before and fingers plucking nervously at his guitar. The strumming stopped when the guitarist noticed Bud in the doorway, the others soon noticing him too. Bud shifted uncomfortably under their gaze. All he could do was stare forlornly at the one person in the room that wouldn't look at him. The sulking mallard was standing in the corner, arms crossed and cigarette smoke framing his angry face in an eerie manner as he scowled at the wall. The sight made Bud feel as though his heart might stop from sheer despair. Only the displeased clearing of Negaduck's throat pulled him from the torturous sight, forcing the entire band to turn their attention to their leader.

They could see the venom in Negaduck’s eyes and feel his anger as though it was a physical occupant of the room. He was actually starting to look rather ill—crimson eyes sunken in and his brow twitching with the pain of every throb his migraine forced him to endure. It was literally painful for Negaduck to twist the agonized groan that escaped his mouth into an angered growl. The dull throb that had been plaguing him for months had morphed into a piercing agony that stabbed through his skull and filled the space with red hot fire. The smallest noise was enough to set him off, and only chugging alcohol did any good.

"SO nice of all you assholes to finally join me," Negaduck said with a bitter sneer at the edge of his voice.

It only increased his irritation when the comment caused the others to turn their eyes away leaving only Reggie to appear unfazed. A sharp jab forced its way into Negaduck's skull; he was unable to keep the wince off his face as he rubbed at his throbbing temple. He didn't even have the energy to continue. All he could find the strength to do was grab a fresh bottle of alcohol from the bar to accompany him as he made his way to the elaborate elevator at the back of the room. If he was going to make it through this concert it was imperative that he conserve what little stamina he had. He practically slammed in the code to start the elevator, turning to face the others once again as the moving box crept its way past the massive expanse of lower levels and towards the devil room.

"Just don't fucking screw this up for me. ANY of you," Negaduck growled, eyes narrowing at the group before him. The soft ding of the lift behind him signaled the arrival of the elevator. He paused for a moment to stare them all down before turning to enter the small space. "Now hurry the fuck up!" 

Each member filed in with as much enthusiasm as any of them could muster, taking their places behind their leader until only Reggie remained.

"Get your ass in here bush-breath," Negaduck hissed, "I don't have all fucking day!"

Reggie scowled at the command, hiding his discomfort behind the furious stare.

"Don't make me hurt you Bushroot," Negaduck added, his narrowed eyes stating quite clearly that he had zero patience at the moment.

Reggie snarled quietly in response, baring his teeth in anger as he begrudgingly complied. It was all he could do to keep the anxiety at bay as he slipped into the small space. He did his best to be as far away from Bud as possible while confined in the claustrophobic box even though it meant practically cowering behind Jack. Negaduck eyed the other duck suspiciously, turning his gaze to Bud as though the look would be sufficient to coax an explanation. Bud didn't dare look him in the eye; he didn't like the knowing stare one bit. The few minutes it took to reach the ground level suddenly felt like hours. Not a word passed between them as they made their way through the parking structure, and only the sound of their footsteps echoing against the stone walls lent any evidence of their journey. In the shadows ahead of them was the massive hunk of metal that would be their transport for the night: a great metallic beast with such jagged edges and massive size that it was more a tank than a tour bus. The servants were already there loading Bud's drums and other various electrical necessities into the back of the huge vehicle.

"Is everything ready?" Negaduck barked at a random roadie.

"Yes, my Lord Negaduck," was the feeble reply.

"Good, then get out of here. I'm already fucking sick of lookin' at you."

Negaduck swept past the cringing servant without another word, stepping into the extreme mode of transportation as the others followed behind him. Reggie paused for a moment to regard the towering machine, the intimidation of the vehicle almost enough to tear his mind from the torturous memories still swirling within it. He followed despite the unsettling feelings conjured by the four-wheeled behemoth. Within the bus, each member of the band had taken their usual place. Reggie immediately made his way to the back where he could isolate himself as much as possible, back hunched and eyes nearly unfocused in an attempt to prevent the sight of a certain flowing form from reaching his retinas. Bud knew better than to get any closer. Only the soft dripping of the stray water that fell from him and the light bubbling of his form broke the stifling silence among the group, and even the normally over-energized duo beside him was oddly solemn in the wake of the stifling tension. Elmo seemed particularly uncomfortable. The young guitarist was leaning his cheek gently against Jack's shoulder as the mallard twirled his soft tail absently between his fingers. Elmo dared to let his eyes slip closed for a moment as he soaked in the tender attention, but the burning feeling of angry crimson eyes quickly pulled him from the moment of calm. He straightened immediately as he caught sight of the irritated red stare, slumping beneath the weight of the other man’s anger. Negaduck didn't like the displays of affection and it was quite obvious that he wouldn't tolerate it even a little bit that day. Jack snarled softly at the glaring duck, furious that he had caused his lover to pull away, but he kept his mouth shut. The trip wouldn't last much longer anyway.

Even through the excessive thickness of the steel walls, Reggie could already hear the cries of ruthless anticipation coming from the assemblage of fans that had gathered. He very much wished he couldn't. The tires of the massive transport groaned beneath their burden as the tour bus came to a halt. The banging in Reggie's chest increased incessantly as the doors opened and the others began to file out. He pulled another cigarette from his coat, continuing the relentless dose of nicotine he had been subjecting his lugs to since he left his room. The chain smoking was all that kept his emotional mask in place. It was the only thing he could do to calm his nerves; like a hazy, familiar friend clouding his pain.

The long hallway leading to the stage was like a prison, the trip down it like a walk of death. Blue eyes crept across the malevolently designed platform as the dark passage gave way to the stage beyond. A twisted display of metal and mechanisms met his gaze, the area separated from the auditorium beyond by a metallic wall that proudly displayed the band's logo beneath the crimson shine of the up lighting. All around the stagehands were still tending to the final adjustments required for the mass of pyrotechnics taking up residence on the platform. Reggie stiffened when one of the nameless underlings motioned for him to take his place, scowling when he noted that his position was so near to the raised platform that housed Bud and his extensive drum set. Reggie clenched his teeth against the cigarette in his mouth as he caught sight of the wet gaze now focused upon him. Long purple bangs cast darkened shadows upon the angry eyes, the red tint of the lights against his green skin only adding to the menacing quality. A smoldering heat began to stir inside the displeased bassist. It welled and burned within him as he forced the pain into anger, twisting the sorrow into loathing until the hate seethed from his expression.

Bud felt sick. He snapped his head away in shame, eyes closing tightly and fluid teeth clenching together to force away the lamented cries that threatened to come forth. A deep shaky breath did little to help his composure. All he could bring himself to do as Reggie stepped closer was stare blankly at the iron wall in front of them.

Behind the veil of steel, a surge of anticipation was growing, the cries of the crowd beyond penetrating through the metal barrier. Reggie took his place with a zombie-like fervor as the various stagehands finished the final adjustments. Blue eyes stared nearly unfocused at the front of the stage where Elmo was currently being hooked up to what looked to be some sort of large and complex battery bathed in blue light. The now antsy rodent shuddered as the roadies hooked in the final cord, shivering in delight as the electricity began to surge through his veins. Overly energized fingers flew over his strings at an almost unbelievable pace in his battery-charged excitement. It was suddenly quite obvious how the electrical rat had gained such a reputation as the fastest guitarist in the world. He started to look very high, soft giggles slipping from his muzzle as he shifted from foot to foot and flicked his tail around excitedly. Jack stared warily at the spectacle; he was never pleased with the excessive amount of electricity that was pumped into Elmo during concerts. It made him fun to play with, but it was also a drug of extreme proportions to the rat, and he was hardly in a normal state to begin with that day. It wracked Jack’s entire body with concern. Despite his worry, he took his usual place to the left of the shorter duck currently preparing himself in the center of the stage.

"Alright assholes, let's do this," Negaduck finally said, cracking his neck from side to side to relieve some of the tension before snapping his fingers at the dog behind him. "Bud, beat." Already irate eyes narrowed when the command was met with silence. Negaduck growled over his shoulder at the obviously distracted dog. "Set the fucking beat, Bud!" he roared, feathers bristling in his anger.

Bud jumped at the furious yell, back stiffening abruptly as he pulled himself together. Four clicks of his drumsticks sounded into the space, signaling the metal wall shielding them from the crowd to lift. The music began before the brutal shroud was barely off the ground, the destructive cries increasing in volume and enthusiasm at the first sounds of the metallic beat. Reggie could practically hear the pounding of his heart even above the brutal tempo. The size of the crowd was more of a shock than he had expected. They spread far beyond the space before the stage, reaching across the city and onto rooftops just to get a glimpse of the band. There must have been hundreds of thousands of them all together, all grouped as though they had merged into a single twisted entity just for that night. It didn't take long for the assembly to be stirred into a frenzy, fists beating in the air and elated cries nearly drowning out the music. A sea of devil horns filled the arena: an eerie salute to their metal messiah that rippled across the crowd like a wave of tangible evil. Reggie had never seen anything quite like it. But yet, he was surprised to find himself somehow numb to their presence. There was nothing in their cries that could faze him at that point— no fear of their presence that could break past the frigid wall he had been fortifying all day. He had shut himself off from the world, retreated behind his static shell to protect himself from his own emotions. There was only one person that was capable of eliciting a response from him at that point and as he noticed the fluid fiend staring at him he snarled ferociously, starting very clearly how he felt about the drummer's observation. Bud's entire body sagged in shame and defeat as he snapped his eyes quickly way from the disapproving mallard. He barely had the will to play at all. 

Negaduck was not pleased in the slightest. "What the hell is wrong with you?!" he hissed as a brief break in the lyrics allowed him a pause, "You'd better start paying attention to what the FUCK you're doing!"

Bud swallowed harshly, straightening in his seat and forcing every ounce of energy he had to keep the beat going.

A final growl from the short singer ended the opening song, the mass of fans chanting the band's name like a possessed horde. "All you assholes out there make some noise for your new bassist!" Negaduck yelled.

Reggie flinched at the spot light that was suddenly thrust upon him, squinting against the bright light and scowling at the screaming mob. 

The resulting cries were obviously not good enough for Negaduck. "I SAID, make some fucking noise for your new BASSIST!" he roared once again, slightly angered by the unsatisfactory response.

Reggie was able to produce only a vicious snarl in reply to the resulting yells as he struggled to even look at them. He suddenly hated them for looking back, repulsed that anyone could see him and convinced that they might see past his mask and into his tortured soul.

"Show them what you got, _Reginald_ ," Negaduck spoke, his voice barely audible without the aid of his microphone.

The narrowed, almost malevolent, stare only made Reggie more furious, frowning unhappily at the signal for him to start his solo that would commence the next song. The crowd roared at the skilled strumming, thoroughly unaware of the sweating palms, the frantic thoughts or the full scale panic attack Reggie was truly holding back. Fingers moved as though possessed, no indication from their owner that he even knew what was going on, no direction from his shattered mind to dictate their actions. 

Reggie's playing continued as Negaduck addressed the massive mob, riling them up more with one of his customary opening speeches as the rest of the band began to softly join in. "Alright all you freaks out there, listen up! I'm not in a good fucking mood tonight, so I'd BETTER get what I want!" The noise amplified at the statement. "And I want this stadium to crack beneath your feet, I want the WORLD to feel the thunder of your cries, and I want every mother fucker out there to party like you never have BEFORE!" 

The resulting roar was practically smothering. 

Negaduck smirked faintly at the screams; his seriousness returning quickly as he continued. "If you do not leave my concert bleeding I will PERSONALLY track you down and beat your fucking skull in! YOU GOT THAT?!" The frenzied roar that was his response was enough to cement the elated, evil grin on his face. He fed off the cries, the worship easing his suffering at least for the moment. He couldn't help but groan deeply in pleasure before continuing. "Alright jerkwads, split down the middle. We're gonna have ourselves a mother fuckin' wall. Of. DEEEAATH!" Negaduck's evil smile only increased in size when the final growled was met with an even louder response from the crowd. "Alright," he yelled over the noise once the sea of fans had split, "All you fuckers to my right!" he waited for their yells of acknowledgment before continuing. "You're on Elmo's team," he said, pointing a gloved finger at the sparking guitarist. "And all you fuckers to my left!" The other side responded much the same. "You're stuck with this asshole," he finished, enthusiasm taking a notable drop as he motioned to the jester at his other side.

The lack of zeal didn't stop Jack from soaking up the admiration, pausing his playing so he could motion for the crowd to make more noise for him.

"The louder and harder your guitarist plays the harder I want you to beat the other side's faces in. IS THAT CLEAR?!"

The ear shattering collective yell was more than enough of a reply.

The volume of the song increased rapidly as Negaduck ended his speech and the others joined Reggie's bass fully. Elmo played with fervor, Jack matching his unbeatable guitar playing as best he could with his habitual onstage acrobatics. It was undeniably impressive that he managed to continue playing while jumping around in such a manner.

The crowd thundered with the heavy beat of the bass, bones cracking under the brutal contact of fist against face. There were at least three major mosh pits beyond the main area where the two sides of the human wall were still forcing their way against each other; one could only guess how many smaller ones were hidden beyond, swallowed up by the sheer size of the congregation. The intricate display of flames around the stage had soon grown to such proportions that it nearly engulfed the musicians they encircled. The heat of the blaze combined with the carnage mere feet away only served to put Reggie even more on edge. A fire burned within him, pouring from his strings as he played and twisting in tandem with the pyrotechnics around him. He wasn't sure how much more he could take.

He wouldn't have a chance to find out.

The deep rumble in the distance was barely notable at first—building slowly much like a storm fortifying itself for a deluge—but the low noise was soon impossible for Reggie to ignore. Curious eyes lifted to the darkening, hazy sky, scanning the inky clouds for the source of the growing sound. He was hardly prepared for the answer he received. His jaw dropped and his fingers slowed to a stop as the misty haze parted to let forth a massive mechanism with such a strange appearance that Reggie had to look twice just to assure himself he hadn't lost his mind. The odd aerial machine had been painted with incredible skill, the entire front masked in the portrait of a deranged duck engulfed in lightning, sharp teeth twisted into a snarl and evil eyes glaring ahead at anything that might dare to stare it down; it made the aircraft look as though it was some strange hybrid of metal and ferocious mallard. It sent a chill down Reggie's spine. He flinched as the bottom of the great machine crashed into one of the tall walls of the arena, the clash of steel against stone drowning the excessive blare of heavy metal and stopping the musicians in their tracks. The great contraption towered above the crowd as all eyes fixed on its rusting and dingy surface. 

No sight could have made Negaduck more furious at that moment. "Is that the fucking Thunderquack?!" he roared, not bothering to wait for the answer he already knew. "When the HELL did he get that thing back in the air?! You told me it was trashed Sparks!" he continued, rounding furiously on the now cringing rodent.

"I thought it was!" Elmo squeaked defensively, "How the hell was I supposed to know he could salvage the engine in that piece of shit?!"

The conversation ended quickly when a sharp metallic groan sounded from the towering plane, the machine letting forth a formidable gun from within its steely depths that was enough to make even the mighty Negaduck wish for mercy.

"Oh, fuck me," Negaduck muttered.

The colossal gun wasted little time making the extent of its power known, firing a brutal shot into the center of the fans crowding the stage. The world seemed to stand still in the wake of the blast. Both Jack and Elmo found themselves too close to the explosion's proximity to remain standing. Elmo had to curl in on himself to protect his head from the raining debris, cords stretching as his body twisted. Negaduck screamed in pain, covering his ears as the shockwave aggravated his migraine to nearly unbearable proportions. It felt very much as though his head would burst. He fell to his knees momentarily disabled by the shock. The chaos and dust cloud made it almost impossible to notice when the craft flew lower, front opening to let forth a blur of mallard and motorcycle, wheels skidding against the ground as it raced towards the bassist at the back. 

The echo of the explosion rang in Reggie's head, blocking all but a high-pitched squeal from his senses. Petals shook frantically as he flipped his head back and forth as though the shaking would return his normal sense of consciousness. He barely had time to glance at the bike advancing on him before everything went black, his brain hardly given the chance to register the butt of the shotgun that collided with his face. The well placed blow knocked him out in an instant as he was pulled onto the speeding vehicle with a deft fluidity that Reggie may have appreciated had he not been unconscious. The stoic mallard turned the weapon quickly upon his barely recovered lookalike as the motorcycle spun back around. The buck shots struck the singer in the shoulder, throwing him back and clearing a path for the bike as the uninjured fans began to swarm the stage in fury. They didn't stand a chance against the pilot steering the strange craft, its cargo safely within its confines once again and the plane already speeding into the air. The departure was followed by an eerie sort of silence, the heavy quiet broken only by the faint howls of pain from the scattered fans and the furious roar from the singer kneeling on the stage. 

Negaduck gripped his bleeding shoulder tightly as he lifted himself back to his feet, the sting of the shrapnel merely an inconvenience in the wake of the true blow he had just been dealt. "Tell me he did NOT just steal my FUCKING BASSIST!" he roared, turning on his still discombobulated band mates.

Jack just stared stupidly as he gripped his fellow guitarist tightly, Elmo’s body convulsing slightly under the sporadic voltage pouring into him from the now damaged battery at his back. 

Negaduck turned his wrath on Bud when the others offered no reply. "JUST FIND HIM! I don't care what it takes, I don't care how long you have to search, FIND HIM NOW!" he screamed before turning his attention to what was left of his fans. "ALL OF YOU! I want that fucking menace found! NOW!"

The masses responded with all the obedience that their leader expected, rushing off into the darkening streets like cockroaches away from the light. Livid red eyes turned on Bud when the horde had left, clearly displaying the question of why he had not yet followed. Bud swallowed thickly at the stare, not waiting for more angry words to follow before slipping quickly into the rubble. Negaduck screamed furiously as the surrounding mass departed, staggering after them with as much anger fueled vitality as he could muster. Only the soft dripping of the blood pouring from his wounds seemed audible among the turmoil.

Elmo rubbed his slim arms for some impression of security as Jack gently disconnected the sparking machine still hooked into his spine. He stared to the sky as an army of helicopters took to the air in a vain attempt to catch the long gone avian and his craft. "Everything is different this time… isn't it Jack?" Elmo finally spoke, eyes never leaving the fiery sky above him. 

The soft words were nearly swallowed up by the chaos around them, but Jack heard him loud and clear. He sighed heavily, pulling his beloved companion close so that the rodent could rest his head against the soft, comforting shoulder he offered.

"Yeah, Mo Mo… yeah, it is."


	10. The Mallard Menace

The city was hauntingly silent: the streets seemingly deserted in the wake of the decimation the disastrous concert had wrought. Deep below the foggy metropolis, a hidden realm stirred, and with it, a stunned mutant began to wake. There was nothing but darkness at first. Reggie felt very much as though he was trying to claw his way out of a deep dark pit, fighting for his life against some unknown entity trying to pull him further into the inky depths. Only the soft sound of the disembodied voices around him filtered through the blackness and into his dazed brain.

"I think ya killed him Pop."

"He's fine."

"I don't know Drake, looks a bit _green_ to me. Heh, heh."

"… Don't make me hurt you LP."

"You got no sense of humor anymore, ya know that?"

"Dad had a sense of humor?"

"Quiet. I think he's waking up."

A feathered hand grasped abruptly at Reggie's face, two of the digits forcing one of his heavy lids open. He could barely make out the other man through the haze, but Reggie did his best to force his fuzzy vision to focus on the mallard in front of him, displeased scowl and lone eye soon solidifying through the fog.

"Earth to bassist. Wake UP!" the mystery bird snapped.

The familiarity of the voice was terrifying even in Reggie's barely conscious state; if it wasn't for the fact that it was slightly less gruff than Negaduck's he would have been sure it was the other mallard yelling at him. He jolted harshly away from the touch once his mind cleared enough for him to register what was going on.

"DON'T fucking touch me!" Reggie yelled, teeth baring furiously at the unknown antagonist.

The short bird was obviously taken aback at the extreme reaction, stepping away slightly and cocking a scrutinizing brow at him.

Reggie swallowed roughly against the painful dryness in his throat as he scanned his surroundings, panic rising within him when he noticed the tight cable forcing his arms to remain bound behind his back. The room around him was so dingy and dim he could hardly make out anything beyond the strong musky smell. He stared uncomfortably at the trio of ducks, scrutinizing each of them and shifting as much as he could while still tied to the wooden chair beneath him. The three birds made an odd group to say the least. The shortest duck stood sternly in front of him, arms crossed and large grey fedora casting shadows across his face. Two redheads flanked him on either side, both taller in stature but obviously younger in age. The first was a teenage girl with a dark sense of fashion and wild hair tamed into a ponytail as best it could be. Reggie sneered somewhat at the obnoxiously toothy grin she sent his way. The second avian was far more imposing in appearance than his two shorter companions, tattered leather jacket and smoldering cigar in his bill only adding to his gruff demeanor. Despite the unnerving stature of the tall, muscular duck, the one-eyed mallard in the middle made the bound bassist far more uneasy. Half of his face was shrouded in a black mask, the fabric covering the evidence of an obviously traumatic loss of his right eye. Many more scars lay nestled amid white feathers, but it was the jagged, angry wound on the mallard's neck was the most difficult to ignore. The large mark spanned across most of his collar, the feathers stripped away and unable to regrow over the marred flesh beneath. The old wound was unnerving, but it was not what bothered Reggie the most about the strange mallard. There was an eerie familiarity to his appearance that caused a sickening feeling to form in Reggie’s stomach at the realization of how similar the other bird looked to Negaduck. If this was some even more evil twin, he was sure he didn't want to know.

A single eye narrowed as the nervous bassist continued to silently observe them, the leader of the trio obviously growing more and more impatient as the seconds passed. Despite his apparent irritation, it was the largest of the group that reacted first, moving in for a closer look as he too grew tired of the waiting. "So, this is our so-called last hope, eh?" he said as he circled Reggie with a distinct look of disapproval on his face, "He's fucking weird lookin'," he finished, narrowing his eyes in scrutiny and pulling the cigar from his bill as he stopped in front of the fidgeting plant-duck.

Reggie barely acknowledged the degrading comment, too wary of the shorter bird in the background to take his eyes off the Negaduck lookalike. The older mallard didn't respond, he simply continued to stare darkly as Reggie's blue eyes stared nervously back. Without warning he stepped closer to the uneasy mutant, the simple action eliciting an unnecessarily extreme response, his appearance and Reggie's recent assault eliciting an uncontrollable fear of being touched by the other man again.

Immediately Reggie began to move away as best he could, the chair legs screeching and his heels scratching erratically against the floor as he desperately attempted to push himself backwards. "JUST STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!" he yelled, the furious glare on his face clearly mirroring his mouth's demand to be left alone.

The largest bird hunched over— head turned slightly to the side and one eye widened as though to observe the mutant more closely. "Kinda jumpy ain't he?"

Reggie sneered at the remark as a puff of thick cigar smoke was blown into his face.

"You really think he's gonna be any use to us Drake?"

"He will. Trust me."

"Huh, oh yeah, like the _last_ bassist was, right?" the girl questioned cynically.

"Yeah, Gosalyn's right. That one was a fucking disaster."

"Yeah, well _that_ one was a moron. _This_ one at least has some brains."

"Pfft, what good does that do us if he's a fucking pussy?" Gosalyn muttered under her breath. The quiet nature of the statement was not enough to conceal the fact that she had said it.

She received a barely restrained slap to the back of her head in response as Drake turned angrily upon her. "Watch your damn mouth," he scolded. "We're doing things my way and I don't want to hear any more complaining! He's not going anywhere and he's exactly what we need."

"Well, he's still fucking weird," Launchpad grumbled.

"He's not here for _decoration_ LP," Drake responded through clenched teeth.

"I don't know, put him in the corner might actually brighten this place up," Launchpad said with a snicker.

"Uh yeah, _hello_ kidnappers," Reggie interrupted, growing tired of being treated like he didn't exist. He waited for all the focus to be on him before continuing, "I'm sitting _right_ here, and I HAVE a fucking name!"

"Well, what the hell is it?" Drake asked impatiently, folding his arms over his chest crossly.

"Reggie."

"Reggie _what_?"

"Bushroot," Reggie grumbled.

Without warning, an insane round of laughter filled the room, Gosalyn cackling at the hilarity of the name. Her obnoxious chortles slowed to barely stifled giggles as she began to realize she was the only one who found it funny. She glanced from her father to Launchpad as she realized how inappropriate her laughs had actually been. "Oh, my god you're serious. Wicked sorry," she said, unable to resist the final chuckle that escaped her at the ridiculous irony of the name.

Drake found himself quite unable to react at first, staring at his daughter with his brow cocked and slight exasperation on his face. He cleared his throat loudly to focus the attention back on him before answering. "Riight. Well then, _Reginald_ ," he paused obnoxiously as though to be sure Reggie got the message that he had heard him, "Launchpad, Gosalyn, Drake," he finished simply, pointing to each of them in succession and ending on himself. "Now that we're all _acquainted_ , I need to ask you a very simple question."

Reggie shifted nervously at this, unable to decide if he wanted to know what that question was or not. "And that would be?" he asked anxiously. Blue eyes widened at the knife that was suddenly thrust beneath his bill, Reggie's brain almost unable to comprehend how the shorter duck had managed to close the gap between them so quickly.

"If I let you lose, are you going to do something stupid?" Drake growled, eye narrowing in warning.

Reggie's breath caught in his throat at the glare, trying to force away the image of crimson eyes haunting his mind as he considered the question. He gulped audibly, finally managing to shake his head jerkily back and forth. He wasn't sure he had the energy to do much in the way of escaping anyway.

"Good," Drake replied, reaching behind the chair and slicing through the rough cable holding the vine-like arms behind the mutant's back.

Reggie rubbed at his sore wrists as they were freed, staring uncertainly at his captors but otherwise not reacting. "So," he said, finally unable to stand the silence, "What the hell do you people want with me?"

Drake responded to the glare he directed at them with a scrutinizing look, trying to strip away all the false emotion Reggie was showing to discern what really made him tick. "Depends," the shorter mallard finally replied, offering no further explanation.

"On _what_?" Reggie questioned in agitation, already growing tired of the obtuse answers.

"All in good time. There's a lot more you need to understand first."

"Like why you look like _him_ ," Reggie snarled, unable to disguise his disgust with how similar Drake looked to the mallard that had been torturing him.

Drake snorted at this. "Oh, yeah. Negs and I are _real_ close."

Reggie considered this response for a moment before answering. "So, you're like.. his brother or something?"

A soft, bitter laugh sounded at the question. "Or something," Drake responded with a grumble.

The still thoroughly unsettled mutant stared suspiciously at the other as he turned away— his small family quickly following in his footsteps.

"You coming or what?" Drake questioned with a glance over his shoulder.

"Why should I?" Reggie growled darkly.

"For answers," Drake responded simply before continuing his slow journey down the dark tunnel before them.

Reggie hesitated, slightly taken aback by the response. For a moment he considered making a run for it, but aside from the fact he had no idea where he was, he couldn't deny that he wanted answers.

Wooded feet moved hesitantly, shifting to hold his weight as he stood shakily. He groaned slightly, placing a hand to his head as the movement aggravated the cranial injury he had forgotten was even there. The world began to spin, and for a moment he was sure he would pass out. He was still wobbling slightly and clutching his forehead when he finally managed to make his way down the entire stretch of the first passageway to join the others.

Drake lifted his brow at Reggie when he noted the behavior, the soft, noncommittal sound he produced in response betraying no part of his true thoughts. "Sorry to crack your skull there," he said, his tone offering little validation that he truly cared. "But with the way you heal you'll be fine soon enough."

"Your concern is overwhelming," Reggie muttered in reply, still rubbing at his head as the throbbing already began to fade. He was starting to question if the ornery mallard was really a good guy or not.

Another noncommittal huff did little to convince the mutant mallard either way. Reggie scowled at the lack of response but otherwise didn't respond as he followed them deeper into the dingy tunnels. Only the sound of his bark-covered talons dragging against the dirt floor accompanied them as they made their way further into the depths of the hidden fortress. The further down they went, the more on edge Reggie got, reacting instinctively as though he could feel the increased distance between him and his fellow foliage outside. The dark twist of mangled channels finally gave way to a large expanse of interconnected rooms and the wayward group of residents within. Reggie couldn't help but shift uncomfortably at the way they immediately began to stare at him, obviously entranced by his strange appearance. He looked around the space to keep from focusing on their gawking, a glance to the ceiling finally making something click in his mind. They weren't really _in_ the city at all, they were _underneath_ it.

"Welcome, to the underground," Drake stated as though he could hear Reggie's thoughts, arms stretching out to gesture to the space around them. "Time for the grand tour," he continued, leading the way down the steep set of stairs in front of them.

Reggie paused to light a cigarette in an attempt to calm his shaking as he followed the other three hesitantly down the rickety steps. He was unable to keep his gaze from wandering around to take in his surroundings more clearly as they walked. The living conditions looked miserable, the people even more so. They had obviously done their best to make as much of a life in the manmade cave as they could— setting up homes and filling the space with as many fixings as they could scavenge or steal from the world above.

Reggie wasn't really listening to anything Drake was saying as he inspected the space around him. He did his best to ignore the continued stares he received as their journey stretched on. "Why do you live down here?" he questioned in an attempt to calm his nerves.

"Oh, you know, great school system, lovely view, quaint little downtown. Why the hell you think we live down here?!" Launchpad griped, shoving his face menacingly into Reggie's personal space.

"Alright, I get it! Stupid question," Reggie yelped, backing away from the imposing duck.

"Don't mind Launchpad, he goes a little stir crazy down here," Drake reassured.

"I was made for the air DW," the pilot replied, staring forlornly to the sky, "Not for wallowing in the fucking mud."

Most of what he said fell on deaf ears, Drake stiffening immediately at the mention of two simple letters. " _Don't_ call me that," he hissed viciously, apparently oblivious to the rest of what his larger companion had said.

Launchpad flinched at the growl, eyes widening as he realized that he had slipped up yet again. "Uuh.. I didn't," he responded in a lame attempt to hide his guilt.

Drake glared at the answer but chose not to respond further, turning back to their resistant houseguest in an attempt to ignore how on edge hearing his old nickname made him. "This is where we _have_ to live," he said to the nearby plant-duck to keep him from questioning the odd scene. "He's forced us from our homes and cut off our escape to the outside. So we live in the dirt, constantly moving and digging new tunnels, burring ourselves deeper and deeper to avoid his wrath."

"Why don't you just leave?" Reggie asked.

"HA! If only it were that easy," Gosalyn replied, kicking small bits of debris on the ground as they walked.

"You don't just _leave_ St. Canard," Drake clarified, "People can get into town by ferry, but the boats never stay, and no one ever gets on to leave. Once you're here, you're here forever until he either possesses you into his ranks or destroys you completely."

"Sure as hell would have been nice to know that _before_ I got here," Reggie muttered, puffing his cigarette in irritation.

"I can't believe you _didn't_ know that before you got here," the fidgeting teenager responded from beside him.

"It _is_ pretty common knowledge," Drake added.

"Not for someone who's been living under a rock most of their life," Reggie grumbled.

"And you're never heard about _any_ of this? The fucked up concerts, the "disappearing" bassists?" Launchpad queried.

Reggie shrugged at the question. "Not really... pretty much only what I learned standing in line for an audition."

"Wow, you really have been livin' under a rock, haven't ya?" the pilot responded.

"So, why'd you come here in the first place?" Gosalyn asked.

"Guess I just wanted my life to be easier for a while." Reggie replied

"That's fucking crazy!" Launchpad cackled obnoxiously.

Reggie couldn't help the annoyance that welled up at the laughter. "Yeah, _thanks_. I've noticed," he grumbled, irritation obviously growing.

"You don't seem like the type that would want so much attention," Drake noted.

The sulking mutant huffed audibly, stating his growing annoyance very clearly. "Apparently I'm just a glutton for punishment," he muttered with a slight snarl, eyes narrowing in irritation at the memories of all the bad situations he'd managed to put himself in.

The comment caused Drake to pause in his tracks, stopping to study Reggie for a moment as though it would force the guarded mallard to reveal his long buried secrets.

Reggie shifted under the gaze, growing more uncomfortable by the second. " _What_?" he finally snapped, barring his teeth at the increasingly irritating mallard.

Only silence met the question.

The lack of response only made Reggie more uneasy. "Could you just tell me what the hell you want from me already?!" he yelled, his emotions slipping more and more from his control the longer he was trapped with them.

"Easy now, don't get your damn roots in a tangle," Drake responded snidely, continuing to walk as though nothing had happened at all. "I'm getting there. We need to get to our place first."

"Well, where the hell is that?" Reggie grumbled.

"Just follow the cries of chaos," Gosalyn mused distantly, jumping around the scattered machines and other random rubbish littering the ground without much thought.

The cries she was referring to became very evident as soon as they stopped in front of the banged up wooden door. Reggie backed up a few steps at the yells within, undeniably wary of whatever might be contained behind the flimsy wooden barrier. Drake led the way into the dark room, his spirited daughter quickly following behind him and Launchpad pausing to wait for Reggie to enter first. The larger mallard cocked a brow at him when the cautious bassist didn't move, toothy grin slipping across his face when Reggie lifted a brow back at him.

"Welcome to our humble abode," Launchpad said, bending over in a slight bow as he held out his arm in an invitation for the bassist to enter first.

Reggie scowled at the gesture but chose not to respond as he slipped past Launchpad and into the softly lit room. From what he could see, the large space was something of a mixture between a kitchen, a dining room and a sleeping area— the hand built bunk beds and makeshift stove lending evidence of what it was used for. Aside from a large table situated near the back of the room, there was little else it contained to lend any evidence that it was a home at all. The décor was hardly what was most interesting about the room anyway. It was the pintsized occupants that stopped the bassist in his tracks.

Almost immediately the turmoil within hit him like a freight train. The shouts of dozens of small voices grated against his ears, the visual chaos almost too much to take in all at once. Reggie was nearly plowed over by a group of displaced miscreants. Eyes widening as he jumped out of the way to allow them to pass. His jaw dropped slightly as he took in the rest of the pandemonium within the home. All around children chased each other with crude toys, jumping around and crying out in their juvenile playtime. A tabletop game of tug-of-war, an unnecessarily rough round of tag, art projects turned into an all-out war of paint, glue and pointy objects: it was pure chaos.

"These.. _all_ yours?" Reggie questioned, mouth still hanging open and shock evident in his tone.

Drake laughed loudly at the thought. "Oh, _hell_ no. They're not all mine. _That_ one is more than enough to take 20 years off my life without having anymore," he stated matter-of-factly, gesturing to his boisterous daughter who was already stirring the surrounding mass of children into even more of a frenzy. "We just kind of look after them. Feed them, give them a place to sleep, that sort of thing. Other than that they're pretty much on their own."

"They're all… orphans then?" Reggie questioned, an abnormal amount of sympathy in his voice

"Yeah.. they are. Even Gosalyn is, but I adopted her way before all this shit started happening. I might as well have birthed her myself with all the crap she's put me through," Drake grumbled.

"Pfft, he loves it," Gosalyn stated, leaning in closer to Reggie to whisper loudly to him.

"Yeah, that's us," Launchpad chimed in, "The wandering orphanage of insanity." The way he muttered was more than enough to voice his annoyance.

"Oh, it's not that bad," Drake replied nonchalantly, making his way through the rowdy mob with an obviously practiced ease.

"Easy for you to say," his younger companion grumbled, "You're not the one taking care of the little monsters."

"What are you complaining for? I thought you liked kids."

"I _do_ , but for fuck's sake Drake, 30 is past my limit!"

"34," Drake responded pragmatically.

"Whatever! That's just worse!" Launchpad yelled, his normally cool demeanor starting to crack. Luckily the surrounding mass of children was enough to take his mind off it. "HEY! Stop gnawing on your sister Ted!" he cried to a small rodent currently chewing on his crying twin's arm, "Here, chew on this you little freak," he muttered, freeing his sister's arm and shoving some strange wooden toy between his teeth.

Drake hummed noncommittally from the back wall where he was rifling his way through several beat up old cupboards. He grumbled when the brief inspection failed to produce the item he was searching for. He turned back to his preoccupied friend who was currently doing his best to corral the mass of tots that had decided to use him as a living jungle gym.

"Quit messing with the children LP!" Drake snapped, "We need to find the damn book."

"Gonna be kinda tough there DW," Launchpad replied grumpily, trying his best to pull some of the small bodies from his limbs and torso.

"DON'T call me that! I swear I'm going to start HURTING you if you don't quit it!" Drake yelled, turning upon his daughter and doing his best to keep his temper under control. "Watch the kids Gos," he stated curtly, moving over to Launchpad to help pull the children off him.

"Uuuuh, come on dad. I don't wanna watch the freakin' kids," she whined— much to her adopted father's irritation.

"I said watch the damn kids Gosalyn!"

The fiery teenager groaned in response. "How come every time something interesting happens it's always _Gos watch the kids_ ," she grumbled in a mocking tone.

Despite the complaints, her obedience was clearly displayed by the fact that she made her way further into the mini mob. She trudged to the back where a particularly raucous group was still flinging art supplies at each other, stepping into the middle of the arts and crafts war and collecting her paint cans from the grip of tiny hands. Reggie watched in curiosity as she shook the spray paint and uncovered a half-finished mural coating a large portion of the far wall. The scene was twisted and dark and very reminiscent of some similar designs he had seen before. He watched her for a moment as she grabbed can after can of spray paint, swiping over the lines with a fluidity that was oddly enthralling. The action made it very obvious who was responsible for the painted scenes sprawled across her father's various vehicles. He finally managed to drag his attention from the skilled artist as Drake and Launchpad lead the way into the next room. It wasn't necessary to ask the mutant to follow. He was glad to be free of the commotion. Kids always did make Reggie uneasy.

A cursory inspection of the new room quickly revealed that it was much like everything else he had so far seen in the underground hideout. It was a fairly small space; nothing like the larger room they had just come from. The floor and walls were covered in simple wood planks, and a few beat up pieces of furniture were scattered around the room, including a table near one of the walls and a few small cabinets, but otherwise there was little in the room at all. The only thing that caught Reggie's eye right away was one large bookcase in the back. It was set above what appeared to be some sort of desk; in actuality it was merely a large board held up by several stacked cinder blocks, but Reggie assumed that's what it was due to the maps and books spread across its surface.

Reggie couldn't resist sighing in relief when the door closed behind them—muffling the noise outside. All the racket was starting to aggravate his still sore head. He sat at the table leaning his back against the nearby wall and lighting a fresh cigarette as Drake immediately made his way to the collection of books and other random curiosities littering the shelves of the large bookcase. He grumbled irately to himself when a swift search of the lower shelves he normally used yielded no results. The soft griping didn’t stop as he began to stretch as best he could to reach the higher boards. The quiet grunts resulting from Drake's struggle caught Launchpad's attention as he passed by the petite duck, spontaneously prompting him to assist. Without warning he gripped his shorter companion beneath his arms so he could lift him easily onto the high desk.

Drake was absolutely livid. His hands clenched at his side, his back hunching as a slight redness began to show on his face. He hated being reminded of his stunted stature. The fact that Gosalyn was already slightly taller than him was bad enough without Launchpad offering his unsolicited assistance. "Gee, _thanks_ LP," he hissed through clenched teeth.

"You're welcome," Launchpad replied, beaming obliviously as his partner fumed.

The chipper tone only served to increase the other duck's irritation. Angry fists clenched tighter, the crime fighter's body shaking ever so slightly in his ill-hidden anger. The lone eye narrowed in annoyance at the taller mallard as Drake turned to face him. He gripped the end of the other's bill pulling the appendage down harshly so that he could press his face closely to Launchpad's. "WHAT have I told you about doing that LP?" he growled deeply.

The shocked bird thought this over for a second, searching his brain as if trying to pull the other mallard's exact words from his memory. "Uhhh, to… not to?" he finally replied, his voice muffled and amusingly distorted by the rough grip still holding the end of his bill together.

"Don't forget it," Drake answered, his sidekick's beak vibrating back into place as it was released.

Launchpad rubbed at where the other had been gripping his face, "Geez DW, no need to get your fuckin' feathers in a knot," he mumbled. The absentminded pilot didn't even see the fist coming until it had already smacked him roughly in the face. "Oowww," he griped, rubbing at his cheek where the angry blow had been placed.

"Did I not JUST tell you saying that was going to start getting painful?" Drake snarled over his shoulder as he turned his attention back to the bookcase in front of him.

Launchpad chose not to comment to avoid angering the other duck even more. He pouted slightly, muttering under his breath as he moved sheepishly to join Reggie at the table. His eyes narrowed at the "are you serious?" look the mutant directed at him. He didn't appreciate the slight amusement Reggie got out of the large mallard being pushed around by his smaller companion.

"Hey, don't look at me like that," Launchpad grumbled, "He may be a little guy but he packs a fucking wallop!"

The thought coaxed Reggie's attention back to the softly grumbling duck who had since continued his search now that he could reach the upper shelves. He cocked a brow as the other began to mutter to himself more audibly. He was starting to seriously wonder about this most recent captor.

"He.. talk to himself a lot?" Reggie questioned softly.

"Now that you mention it.. yeah," Launchpad replied with a slight laugh.

Drake growled gutturally at the comment, announcing his feelings about their discussion without actually saying anything; he did his best to stop the muttering anyway. The spectacle Drake provided prevented any of them from noticing when the door behind them slowly creaked open to let through a certain redheaded miscreant. The two drakes at the table were so occupied with observing the griping crime fighter's search that they didn't even notice when she slipped onto the bench to sit beside Reggie.

Gosalyn sat there silently for several moments before it became obvious the others were not going to notice her. "Psssst," she finally whispered obnoxiously into Reggie's ear, quite sufficiently gaining the mutant's attention.

Reggie yelped slightly, scooting away from her so swiftly that he actually forced himself right off the bench, landing with a thump on the hard floor. His scowl voiced his anger quite clearly without him having to say anything.

"Wow, you really are jumpy," Gosalyn mused, leaning an arm against the table as she continued to stare at him.

"Gosalyn!" Drake yelled as the sound of the altercation brought his attention to the group behind him. "I thought I told you to watch the kids!" his brow lifted as he noted the guitar she had brought with her, "And to get rid of _that_ damn thing," he finished irately.

"They're fine," Gosalyn stated, flipping a wrist dismissively at her fuming father and choosing to ignore his comment about her guitar entirely.

"That wasn't the point," Drake grumbled as he turned back to his search. He would deal with his disobedient daughter _after_ he found what he was looking for.

Gosalyn smirked in triumph when the reprimanding didn't continue, turning her attention back to the bassist who had since dusted himself off and settled back in his seat so he could rest his chin on the table. He never would quite understand why the position was so comforting to him since his transformation. Only his heavy sigh broke the silence. There was no way the antsy teenager beside him was going to allow him to keep sitting quietly.

"So, what's it like being in a famous metal band?" Gosalyn asked eagerly, nearly bouncing in her excitement.

Reggie's brow lifted in confusion at her, angling an eye to the side to meet her suddenly star struck gaze. " _Horrible_ ," he muttered, never removing his chin from the hard tabletop.

The terse answer did little to stop the uncontrolled string of questions that suddenly poured from Gosalyn's mouth in response. Reggie gaped at her as he straightened his back, aghast and slightly disgusted look aiming at the sudden assault of inane babble. "Why the hell do you care?" he finally managed to question, choosing to ignore any specific inquiry.

" _Gosalyn_ , unfortunately, is a big fan of the band," Drake answered grumpily, "And a big fan of _yours_ in particular."

"Yeeah, great stuff," Gosalyn stated, slightly dreamy look slipping across her face as she stared into space.

"You know your dad don't like that shit Gos," Launchpad stated, unable to keep the amused smirk off his face.

"Pfft, don't see why it's such a fucking problem," Gosalyn muttered as she began to strum on the instrument she had brought.

"Language!" Drake yelled, taking a moment to glare at his daughter before returning to the shelves; he was finally starting to just throw stuff to the ground as his searching stretched on with no results. "First of all," he continued as though he hadn't said anything about her choice of words, "You're _supposed_ to be on our side. Second of all, that’s stuff is totally inappropriate for you, and _third_ of all I HATE METAL!" he finished angrily.

"Hey, I can hate the people and still like the band," Gosalyn stated stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest in a display of refusal. "Besides, it's not very often an actual _good_ bassist comes along."

The fact that she received no reply at all seemed to annoy her more than being scolded. She turned her attention back to the plant duck beside her when the new round of silence became too much to handle. Reggie shifted uncomfortably under the gaze, glaring at her when she didn't immediately say anything.

"You're one of the best you know," Gosalyn finally stated, answering some question he never asked as though her thoughts had been obvious.

"You don't say," Reggie muttered unenthusiastically.

"Oh, yeah," she replied, suddenly pulling a small stack of CDs from her inner vest pocket. "Check it out."

Reggie picked one up in curiosity as she placed them on the table. A glance at the back lent an interesting piece of information. Beside every song the bassist that produced it was marked in bright red writing. It was very unsettling seeing nine different names on one CD, all sprawled upon the back in crimson letters as though to mark the blood they spilt in pursuit of stardom. A painful sickness settled in his gut as a brief inspection of the other discs revealed a similar situation on each album. The sound of Gosalyn placing a dirty little stereo on the table and connecting her guitar to the small, battery powered amp she had finally tore his attention from the unsettling list of eliminated bassists.

"Nearly all the albums have at _least_ five different bassists on them," she said, " _Very_ few of them managed to produce more than two songs before Negaduck got sick of 'em. Not that it really made much difference sound wise. Only like three of them have actually been any good."

Reggie lifted a curious brow at her as she loaded one of the discs into the player, nearly jumping out of his green skin when music suddenly began to blare from the CD player's small speakers. Drake covered his ears with a furious snarl at the auditory assault, crying out at the pain that filled his head. Even Launchpad flinched at the noise. It only got worse when she decided to jump onto the table and bang her head to the music, suddenly playing along with the rhythm and singing the lyrics. Her voice sounded very much analogous to a car crash or perhaps a bag full of squealing puppies. Reggie clenched his teeth at the unexpected blast of vicious sound, covering his ears in an attempt to block out the sound.

The impromptu jam session was put to an end as quickly as it had started— Launchpad yanking her guitar cord from the amp and switching off the stereo. "Yeeah, that's enough of that," he muttered, rubbing at his own tortured ears once the music had stopped.

The energetic youth seemed essentially unfazed by the interruption, plopping back in her seat as though nothing had happened.

"Don't EVER do that again!" Drake roared, turning furiously on his daughter.

"So, what ya think?" Gosalyn questioned to the mallard beside her, choosing to ignore her father completely. She leaned in close to Reggie's face when he didn't respond, grin extending in her excitement.

The still flabbergasted bassist wasn't quite sure how to respond. "Um…. lay off the singing?" he answered, unable to think of anything else to say about the loud and obnoxious display.

" _Thank_ you," Drake responded, pausing his pursuit once again to send a genuinely grateful glance over his shoulder.

Gosalyn huffed at the quick response, plucking at her beat up instrument in annoyance. "Well what about the guitar?" she questioned.

Reggie shrugged noncommittally, "Practice."

"Sooo, I'm awesome then!" she yelled elatedly, huge grin spreading across her face as she once again invaded Reggie's personal space.

The wide-eyed mutant blinked stupidly at the statement; it wasn't a question. In her mind Gosalyn was the greatest musician ever. "Yoou're…. a little crazy aren't ya?" he finally responded, choosing to ignore the pseudo question completely.

"A little doesn't _begin_ to cover it," Drake muttered as his search finally came to the last shelf. "Finally," he said at last, pulling down a heavy book that was nestled in a dark corner behind several dusty trinkets.

Drake clutched the item close as he jumped down from the desk, making sure to avoid the pile of clutter he had created during his rummaging. He dropped the book unceremoniously onto the table as he slipped into the spot beside Launchpad. The slightly dingy piece of literature was obviously very old—the age of its material quite apparent even in the dim light shining throughout the room. The entire book was covered in handmade carvings, the delicate designs twisting their way all around the dark stone binding. Sprawled in bold and fancy letters across the cover were some words that Reggie didn't understand; he found himself wishing very much that he could.

"Oooh is that the _book_?" Gosalyn questioned in awe, running her fingers along the elaborate cover of the manuscript. Immediately her mouth began to once again pour out questions, the sound causing her father's head to throb.

Drake groaned audibly at the pain. "Uuuh! Will you _please_ leave and let the grownups talk! You're giving daddy an ulcer babe," he grumbled as he rubbed his temples.

"I AM a grownup!" she snapped defensively. "I'm 16 already and-"

"You're 15!" Drake replied curtly, cutting her off before she could continue.

"Only for 3 more weeks," Gosalyn grumbled.

The reminder that his little girl wasn't so little anymore only made Drake's mood worse. "I don't care! An if I hear much more lip from you I'm gonna fuckin' lose it!"

Gosalyn swallowed thickly at the statement as she watched her father's anger grow. Any time his grammar began to slip that badly she knew he really was losing it. The last thing she really wanted was to get her father overly worked up at the moment. She knew he was in no condition for it. Drake winced as though on cue: an obviously pained expression slipping across his face as his skull throbbed, briefly losing control of his composure in the force of the emotion and physical pain. Gosalyn sighed heavily, as the action reminded her just how much her beloved parent was actually suffering at the moment. She moved closer, slipping the grey hat from her father's head so she could lay a soft kiss on his feathers before turning reluctantly to leave. The faintest of smiles graced Drake's face as she moved away; it did not remain long, his usual serious demeanor quickly replacing it.

Reggie was suddenly very curious about the ailment the other was experiencing; it was very similar to Negaduck's and he couldn't help but wonder about it. He chose not to comment in favor of inspecting the intriguing manuscript now resting on the table. "So, what the hell is that?" he queried, pointing a leaf-like finger at the antiquated book.

"The answer to all your questions," Drake replied, sliding the slightly disheveled item across the table so it rested in front of the curious mallard.

Reggie cocked a brow at the unspoken invitation to inspect the pages. He lifted the cover almost hesitantly, easing the heavy binding open gently as though it might injure him if he made any sudden moves. His brow furrowed at the incoherent barrage of letters within. Not a word of it was English, and although Reggie did speak bits and pieces of several languages, Latin was not one of them. " _Sooo_ , what does it say?" he questioned, continuing to turn the pages as though the later pieces of paper might lend him some information.

"Hell if I know," Drake muttered, leaning back slightly and crossing his arms. The sulking mallard did not appreciate the annoyed look Reggie directed at him as he lifted his eyes from the book. He didn't even have to say anything for Drake to hear him loud and clear. "Look, the damn thing is like a thousand years old. It's faded as hell and written in _Latin,_ which I do _not_ read by the way, so you'll have to cut me a fucking break here!" Drake retorted crossly.

Reggie sighed heavily, leaning back against the nearby wall behind him and pulling another cigarette from his coat. He paused to think for a moment as he inhaled deeply from the now lit tube, doing his best to collect his thoughts. "I don't understand. How the hell am I supposed to get any answers from this if you don't know what it means?"

"I didn't say I didn't know what it meant; I just can't read the damn thing."

Reggie narrowed his eyes at the irritating answer. "So what does it _mean_ then?" he growled in frustration.

He was starting to suspect that Drake enjoyed torturing him almost as much as Negaduck did.

"Means you're fucked dude," Launchpad decided to reply pointing at him with the fingers his cigar was nestled between.

The statement stopped Reggie mid turn of the page, tearing his attention from the book in front of him. "Excuse me?"

Drake pulled the book back, flipping through it until he came upon the illustration he was looking for: a hand sketched schematic of what appeared to be some strange machine that Reggie was sure couldn't have even been _dreamt_ of a thousand years ago.

"This is much more than just a book," Drake answered, "It's a trove of dark knowledge that never should have been rendered."

Reggie's confusion was written all over his face. "I.. I still don't understand," he said meekly.

Drake didn't respond at all at first; he just regarded the leafy duck in front of him in contemplation, considering what he could say that would make it easiest to understand. He flipped a few more pages ending on a picture of a very familiar looking form.

Reggie's eyes bulged at the drawing, the faded sketch almost making him want to bolt for the door. He cringed pathetically at the sight of the exact likeness of the statue that had so terrified him: the beast of stone and steel that towered over the devil room within the band's manor.

"Just by your reaction I can assume you are familiar with this particular abomination," Drake said.

A brief nod was his only response.

"I suppose that thing is really where it all started. It is a true monster trying to pass itself off as an innocent hunk of stone. In actuality it's a hideous demon with no business existing in our world," he trailed off for a moment as though searching his own thoughts, "That statue is possessed by a dark being," he continued, "An entity that can only truly exist through possession. A sharing of souls and vessels that allows it to exist in this world. I've been told the woman who wrote this book was taken over by this spirit when she rendered it, opening a door to some realm through which this creature entered our world and laid forth the instructions for a machine."

"A machine?" Reggie questioned, his voice weak from shock.

Drake nodded tersely, flipping pages yet again to show the hand sketched details of the device in question.

"That so called _home_ of theirs isn't really a home at all. Well.. aside from the top few levels of course. The rest is a mechanism. An evil machine, powered by death and controlled by a madman."

"A machine that does _what_?" Reggie questioned, unable to keep his growing nerves out of his voice.

"Heh, that is the million dollar question ain't it," Launchpad grumbled, inhaling deeply from his cigar.

"Truth is, we don't really know," Drake clarified, "It's supposed to be able to grant ultimate power through the merging of a worthy soul with the creature housed within that statue… but we're not totally sure what that means. All we know for sure about that machine is that it can tear souls apart. _But_ , it can also merge them together," he finished, demonstrating the idea by intertwining his fingers as though they were two souls coming together.

"How do you know all this?" Reggie questioned.

"Cause I built the damn thing. How the hell do you think I know all this?" Drake retorted irately.

"So what does that have to do with you? I mean, if he's your family or something and you expect me to help with this fucked up shit I—" Reggie cut himself off when the question prompted a round of dark, grunting laughter from the other mallard's bill.

"You just don't fucking get it do you?" Drake said, ironic snorting stopping as he lifted his narrowed eye to face Reggie. "He's not _related_ to me. He _IS_ me."

Reggie's jaw dropped, the sentence rolling over and over in his head as though to assure him the other bird had actually said it. "What do you mean he _is_ you?"

"I mean he's ME! Well… part of me anyway," Drake sighed heavily, body slumping in his depression. "He's the other half of my soul which I tore from myself in a desperate attempt to save someone I cared for very much. He's the very blackest pit of my soul, my harshest, darkest, and most distasteful of desires.. But he's also my passion. My ingenuity… my lust for life…" he trailed off despair suddenly written very clearly on his face. "And I'm the sense of justice, the conscious… the regret. The love and the caring without the passion to live or feel joy…  But he needs me as much as I need him, and that's his weakness. We were torn apart by that machine and he's been fighting to survive on his own ever since."

"What the hell does that mean?" Reggie asked, brow raised in confusion.

"A person cannot live without their soul Reginald. Not you, not me…not even him. And half of it is not good enough." Drake turned the pages again flipping to one with a drawing of two beings splitting from one another: a black and a white soul in obvious torment with coils of flesh still binding them together despite the forceful separation. "He was birthed into this world as pure insanity and anger. He didn't even _look_ the same. He looked like something ripped from a dark and colorless realm. Like… like color never even _existed_. The second I saw him I knew I made a big mistake… but, as I'm sure you can guess, by then it was already too late. Once I let him loose I couldn't stop him. And I still haven't been able to. The only saving grace is that he hasn't been able to stop me either. Negaduck is no longer just that part that was torn from me. He has very much created his own entity… and that's exactly what he wants."

"He's.. trying to survive without you?" Reggie questioned.

Drake nodded. "The only thing that has been keeping us alive this whole time is his ability to use that machine to ingest souls. Devouring innocents to extend his own life… and incidentally mine by extension."

"So, all those screams.. they're…" Reggie whispered, speaking more to himself than anyone else.

Drake regarded him thoughtfully for a moment but offered no reply. "Tortured souls are always more nourishing," he answered softly after a moment.

"Why would you do this?" Reggie continued disgust clearly voiced by his tone.

"I.." Drake couldn't control the small choked cry he let out at the thought of what had pushed him to do it. "I.. was in love," he said, the final word barely a whisper. "And love makes us do crazy things…. I was just so desperate to save her. I thought… I thought it would make me stronger. And in a way I suppose it did. Unfortunately, as much as I hate to admit it, he _is_ the one running the city and I'm the one hiding in the dirt." He paused obviously trying to collect himself enough to continue. "Morgana," he whispered, the world falling away for a moment in the force of his haunting memories.

For a moment it looked very much as though he might cry.

"Good usually loses because evil does not play by the rules," he continued as though he hadn't said the name at all. "I just… I just couldn't let all those innocent people die to save her. I thought if I could just shut down my conscious.." he choked up once again, unable to continue as his whole body tensed at the knowledge of what he had done. "I thought I could save her from the man that stole her from me, but I just couldn't beat him as I was. He had an army and all I had was myself."

A gruff clearing of the larger mallard's throat made Drake pause and role his eyes. "And my trusty sidekick Launchpad of course."

" _Thank_ you," Launchpad replied, satisfied look planting on his face.

Drake couldn't help the brief lopsided smile; Launchpad always seemed to manage to keep his thoughts from delving too deep into depression. "I couldn't beat him," he continued once he had composed himself, "But Negaduck could. The book mentions.. an immortality of a sorts that the two halves possess once split from one another. An _inability of death_ I believe it says."

The cocked brow was enough to say that Reggie didn't quite trust the validity of the statement.

"Oh, don't believe me eh? Well I got the scars to prove it that's for damn sure," Drake griped, "He skewered my head with a pole, that's how I lost this," he said pointing to his empty eye socket, " _This_ one, nearly took my fucking head off," he continued pointing to the large scar on his neck, "He tore my HEART out once and the damn thing just grew right back!"

Reggie couldn't keep the somewhat repulsed look off his face at the laundry list of fatal injuries. There was something very unsettling about the other's inability to die that had nothing to do with Drake himself; it dredged up memories of nightmares: the agony of Reggie's own torturous death that happened over and over in his dreams. Each night was different and more horrifying than the last.

"Sounds like a pretty sweet deal eh?" Drake continued seemingly unaware of Reggie's true feelings on the matter. "Well it's not!" he snapped, "Dying is _NOT_ cool. It fucking HURTS!" he paused for a moment, snatching Launchpad's freshly lit cigar from his hand and taking a long drag before continuing. "But you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" he finished, smoke billowing from his bill as he spoke.

Reggie's eyes widened at the comment, suddenly terrified that the other duck might just be able to see straight through his head and into his thoughts. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he questioned nervously.

Launchpad and Drake shared a quizzical look, obviously shocked by the response.

"Yooou.. _can't_ seriously not remember," Launchpad replied in disbelief.

"Remember _WHAT_?!" Reggie yelled, unable to contain his growing fear from morphing into fury.

Drake took one more hit from the cigar still clenched between his fingers before handing it back to his friend and regarding the mallard in front of him thoughtfully. "He has been experimenting on you Reginald," he finally answered, the softness of his voice somehow lending his sympathy. "And it has not been pleasant."

Reggie didn't even know how to respond. He just sat there staring, mouth agape and mind reeling. "How.. how would you even know that?" he finally sputtered out.

"There is only so much information we can get from that fortress of his," Drake replied, leaning forward and folding both arms on the table. "But the lower levels are one place he can't monitor constantly so we do have some eyes and ears down there and.…. we've seen him do it.. killing you over and over almost every night trying to figure out your weaknesses."

Reggie's breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding as the panic within him rose. "Y- you're trying to tell me that he's... he's been," he cut himself off unable to even acknowledge out loud that his dreams had not been dreams at all but some retched reality. He began to shake violently, breath coming out in panicked pants as visions of his dreams— no, memories— ran violently through his head.

"You alright there Reg?" Launchpad questioned, genuinely concerned about the other's state of mind.

Reggie gawked at him like he'd grown two heads. "No, great! I just hear my nightmares are actually memories of him torturing me! I'm fucking FABULOUS!" he screamed, banging his fists on the table.

"Alright now calm down, I know this is all a lot to take in," Drake tried to reason.

"Understatement of the fucking century," Reggie growled, crossing his arms and glaring.

Drake sighed heavily at the response as his head throbbed. He decided they could all use a little calming down at the moment.

"LP, I believe it's time for a drink. Do fetch the rum will you?" he said, moving from his seat and making his way towards the back of the room.

"Sure thing D—err, Drake. I meant Drake," Launchpad sputtered, catching himself before he spoke the dreaded nickname yet again.

Drake's look stated very clearly that the pilot better watch himself. "Just make sure _Reginald_ doesn't hyperventilate himself to death," he grumbled.

"Ugh, would you _STOP_ calling me that?!" Reggie griped using the comment as an excuse to get his mind off the terrifying thoughts in his head and calm his rapid breathing, " _He_ always calls me that. In case you haven't noticed you sound almost exactly like him. It's weirding me out!"

"Yeah, they certainly have their similarities," Launchpad responded with a slight snort.

"Don't EVER say that! I _REFUSE_ to be compared to that fucking menace!" Drake snapped defensively, growling and swearing under his breath as his moved away from them.

"Well, he sure as hell has a fucking temper like his," Reggie answered in annoyance, perching an elbow on the table so he could lean his chin against his palm as he watched the grumpy mallard storm into a small adjacent chamber.

"Go fuck yourself bush face!" Drake yelled from the other room, his normally strong composure weakening in his debilitated state.

"… and he's _insulting_ like he is," Reggie muttered irately at the muffled comment.

Launchpad laughed at the response, reaching to the small cabinet behind him to retrieve the large bottle of alcohol within. "Yeah, I suppose you can take the lunatic out of the duck but you can't take his temper… or ego.. or tendency to be a bit of an ass.." The sentence just kind of drifted off as the pilot considered the two duck's similarities for a moment.

Reggie didn't even have a chance to respond before Drake returned— several mismatched drink glasses in hand. He dropped himself back into his seat with little more than a grumble, placing the three cups unceremoniously onto the table. Launchpad filled the glasses quickly, wasting little time in downing his first drink before filling the vessel once again. Reggie simply swirled the amber liquid slowly, staring into the churning depths as though they might lend some solace to ease his shaking nerves. He finally downed the alcohol, shuddering and grimacing slightly at the still unpleasant sensation of the liquor.

Launchpad snorted slightly at the display. "Not much of a drinker are ya?" he questioned, refilling his own glass once again.

Reggie huffed at the comment. "I'm sure as hell gettin' there," he muttered irately.

The alcohol did nothing to sooth his emotions, the questions still gnawing at his brain unwilling to give him a moment's peace. He snarled furiously as the thought of the vicious attacks that had haunted his dreams resurfaced; the knowledge of being so violated making his blood run cold. " _Why_ keep killing me?" he growled quietly. It wasn't necessary for him to clarify what he meant.

For once Reggie could clearly see the sympathy on Drake's face. If anyone knew how it felt to die over and over, he did.

"He never creates someone as powerful as you without knowing how to control them," the one-eyed duck replied, "You were very much a first in that regard. He's been desperately trying to figure out how to kill you ever since. He's avoided using that machine for years because he had no idea what it would result in. It shows how desperate he's getting. He's running out of time to be free of me, and you're the last thing he needs… he can't collect your soul if you can't be killed."

"Then why did he mutate me in the first place?!"

"Keeps the fans happy," Drake replied with a shrug, "Besides, for a soul to really be much use to him it requires a certain.. potency, and putting you through such a significant trauma is the perfect way to accomplish that."

"I still don't understand why he needs _me_ so badly. If you two are so invincible, then what's his fucking hurry?"

Drake laughed forlornly at the question. "Neither of us can be killed, but that doesn't mean we aren't dying," he flipped to the next page in the neglected book, showing an image of the two spirits dissolving into nothingness— oozing into empty space with eyes hallow and mouths agape in silent screams as though they were simply melting painfully away. "The book says that after so long both halves of the split soul will begin to "fade". Basically this means our essence will degrade so badly that we will be simply unable to continue living and all that we.. _I,_ was will cease to exist. All we can do is continue this stalemate until we either fade away together or he wins… but without you, he _can't_ win. You're the only chance we have."

A sharp jab of pain made it quite impossible for Drake to continue. He couldn't help the groan of agony that escaped him, gripping his head with both hands in desperation to make the stabbing ache go away. Launchpad quickly filled his empty glass, Drake grabbing the vessel gratefully and downed the alcohol in one swallow. He sighed heavily as the liquor eased the migraine slightly, still rubbing at his temples in pain.

Reggie cocked a curious brow at him, unable to resist inquiring about the display. "So, these headaches are.. killing you or something?" he questioned suspiciously.

"Heh, the headaches are just a symptom of the fading," Drake stated, the roll of his eye voicing his annoyance, "It goes way beyond that."

"So, he eats souls to keep his body from just… dying?"

"Yes," Drake responded simply.

"So all these people I've met.. they all lost their souls?" Reggie queried, still somewhat unable to believe all the information he had been given.

"Well not _all_ of them, but most of them I'm sure. And in a lot of cases it's only a piece of their souls. It leaves a large majority of people as nothing but empty husks, devoid of any thought or emotion. There's nothing in their head or their heart but what Negaduck plants there. But some souls are a bit more.. special than that. Those people retain the strongest feelings they possessed when they were whole. Take their first bassist for example, he was left with nothing but his fury to keep him living."

"So, Benny and Jake?" Reggie trailed off eyes widening as he realized the people he had been interacting with who were half a soul and he never even noticed. "… even Darla?"

Drake laughed loudly at the question, obviously finding the answer so obvious it was almost funny. " _Darla_? That soul crushing witch of a tycoon?!" he said, "She was one of the first! And she is _very_ largely responsible for all this. Now, Benjamin he left intact. He figured it would hurt him more to see his lover turned into a heartless bitch than to turn him too. His soul wasn't really good _enough_ to be of any use anyway. Lucky for us. That dog has been feeding us a _lot_ of useful information."

"Wait, Benny is on _your_ side?" Reggie questioned in disbelief.

"Of course. Jake too, although he's almost more a hindrance than a help," Drake mumbled in obvious annoyance at the very thought of the disgruntled duck. "Only that bitch Darla really _wants_ Negaduck to succeed."

Reggie couldn't help but be somewhat angered by the degradation of Darla's character—even if it was true. He didn't want to admit that one of the few people he had ever felt comforted by was truly so evil. He did his best to keep the feelings to himself. "What about Sapphire?" he asked to avoid the thoughts.

"Ha! Sapphire is nothing but a high priced whore. He usually leaves the _working girls_ intact. He found them to be less… _enthusiastic_ once their souls were eaten," Drake responded.

"… and the rest of the band?"

"Nah, he couldn't risk messing with them. He needs them too much… for now. Sparks especially. Without him he could never channel the amount of electricity it takes to power that damn machine."

"How do you know that?"

"Cause that's how I powered the thing in the first place," Drake muttered, obvious regret in his voice. "Look, you know the deal now, so are you going to help us or not?!" he continued, growing more irritated at the constant questioning.

Reggie narrowed his eyes at him, suddenly finding himself hating the other. "Why should I?" he growled.

"Cause you are exactly what he needs and he'll kill you to get what he wants."

"What the hell is so special about me?!" Reggie cried, barely able to control his growing fear.

Drake sighed heavily, trying to calm his nerves to give a reasonable response. "Most souls aren't really much good to him. Just basic nourishment. The souls he really needs are a bit more.. complicated than that. The book refers to these as _significant_ souls."

Reggie lifted his brow in confusion but otherwise didn't respond, deciding to allow the other to continue uninterrupted.

"He needs several of these significants to make the final stage of the soul merging process work. Seven to be exact. Seven significant souls to make one merging of monster and man. The first six have no particular order or specifications. They just have to be significant souls. But the last one… is different. It must be in a state of "living death" as the book puts it. A soul that has given up when it's vessel refuses to. A spirit brought into this world in the wake of death, tortured and unwanted throughout its entire life. You are a host to a dead soul Reggie… and he wants it."

Reggie stiffened at the truth of how well the aforementioned criteria actually fit him—it dredged up some very painful memories. Not that he was about to mention it. "What the hell do you know about me?" he questioned softly: the weakness of his voice betraying the truth of how he felt.

"Enough," was the curt reply.

"So, if he needs me so bad for this all to work why even ask for my help? Why not just kill me and keep him from using me?" Reggie continued, trying his best to ignore the feelings the conversation was stirring up.

"Well, first of all it wouldn't help anyway," Drake replied indifferently, "If you're dead and we're left to simply drift away, all his possessed followers will simply wander aimlessly instead of dying; sucking souls and spreading their disease everywhere they go. It wouldn't be a solution it would just be a different way to die. But besides that I'm a good guy, _despite_ how it might seem, and my _painfully_ engrained morals would never allow me to do that. I only kill when I have to, and in the case of his so called fans.. most of them are worse than dead already. They've lost their _souls_ Reggie, and once they have been taken they can never be given back. I'm doing them a favor. And I did _you_ a favor by taking you away from that madman, so the least you could do is help me!"

"Why?! All you care about is using me for what YOU want! I really don't see how that's much different from what I'd get from him!" Reggie yelled, suddenly furious at the idea of being around either of the lookalike mallards.

"This isn't about what you or I want!" Drake snarled in response, standing from his seat so he could stare down at the other bird. "This is about saving all those innocent people out there. If you don't help he's going to destroy the entire fucking world!"

"I don't care!" Reggie roared, standing and backing away from the others. "I'm tired of being used and tortured and treated like I'm DIRT! What the hell does it matter to me if the whole world tears itself apart?! All I ever got from life was a world full of SHIT, so quite frankly the entire thing can go fuck itself!"

"This isn't about your shitty past, and you know it!" Drake yelled furiously, advancing on the retreating bassist, "You're just a fucking coward! That's exactly why you haven't ended it yourself. You're just too much of a weakling to actually do it!" Drake was screaming by that point, absolutely livid at the other man’s reaction. He would do anything it took to save his city and that included doing everything in his power to _force_ him to help.

Reggie was too furious to even respond: furious at the truth behind the statement, furious at everything he had endured, furious at the world. He snarled angrily at Drake, voicing his wrath with a feral growl as he turned and stormed away. Reggie was already running at full speed by the time he made his way back into the kid filled room—climbing over anything in his path and stretching his limbs to get away from the two avians behind him as fast as possible. He sprinted through the great hall, forcing his exhausted body to move as quickly as he could manage in an attempt to escape the yells chasing him from behind. The only thing he could think to do was retreat up the same path that they had come from, delving back into the twisted labyrinth of tunnels in his desperation to escape. Panicked pants sounded into the maze of passageways as his anxiety grew, bouncing off the walls as he tried desperately to remember how to get back to the room they had come from. He made his way through each channel almost entirely on instinct, finally finding his way back into the room he had woken up in. Reggie’s heart was pounding so fast he could barely breathe, his chest shuddering under the force of his terrified gasps for air. He finally set eyes upon the only exit the room had to offer: a heavy barricade of wood and metal blocking the only way out. Leafy hands grasped desperately at the pieces that made up the door, pulling futilely on the bits of twisted iron in an attempt to pry the entryway open.

"Alright, just hold it _right_ there," a dark voice growled, forcing the terrified mutant to spin around and face the mallard behind him.

Drake stood before him, teeth clenched and shotgun focused on the now shaking mutant bird. "I'm NOT just going to let you leave!" he yelled, the angry tone unable to disguise his anxiety.

"And you're not going to kill me either so we have a bit of a problem don't we?!" Reggie retorted.

Drake snarled at this, eye narrowing and jaw clenching in his fury. He knew Reggie was right. He wasn't capable of killing him for no good reason. Despair suddenly filled his expression as the realization that his last hope was slipping through his fingers overwhelmed him. He dropped his arms slowly, forcing the barrel of the gun to shift its focus to the floor. The mixture of pain and despair on his face hurt Reggie far more than he would have expected. He was suddenly very unsure of what to do. He wouldn't even have a chance to decide. A sudden, sharp creaking began to fill the space, steeling the attention of both birds as the sound grew louder.

Drake's eyes immediately widened at the noise, his already white feathers paling in dread. "Oh, not NOW," he moaned, eye shifting along the groaning wood surrounding them.

All at once, a flood of water burst through the heavy door before them as the cognizant liquid finally sought out the entrance to the hideout. The water seeped forth in eerie tendrils as it reached its way into the underground haven and began to form into its normal shape.

Drake didn't even try to watch the scene unfold, shielding his face instead as the force of the shattering door flung bits of debris at them. He was very protective of his only good eye.

The watery figure that now stood in the entryway was barely lit by the weak lights in the room, but the silhouette was more than enough to make Reggie quiver pitifully. The sight had him immediately backing away from the sopping dog, subconsciously moving so that Drake served as a barrier between him and the drummer.

"Uunh, not YOU," Drake groaned miserably, "I can't catch a fucking break can I?!" He sighed deeply before continuing, trying his best to compose himself. "What the hell do you want?" he growled.

"I think you know damn well what I came here for, Mallard," Bud snarled, his distaste for the bird quite apparent in his voice.

"Oh, I don't think that's going to work out. You see, I need him," Drake stated, crossing his arms and scowling threateningly.

"Why? So you can _use_ him?" Bud questioned darkly, moving closer as the others began to back away.

"Oh, and what are _you_ planning to do with him? Just hand him over and let this happen?!" Drake yelled.

"It's none of your fucking business what I do!"

"When it involves MY city it sure as hell is!"

Bud narrowed his eyes at the short duck, pausing long enough to give Reggie a chance to interject.

"How the hell did HE find you?!" the terrified mutant cried, panic evident in his voice.

"Oh, he always fucking finds us," Drake grumbled, obviously irritated at the truth in his own statement. "We just have ourselves a little agreement. Don't we, _dog_?"

Bud growled deeply, advancing slowly on the shorter man as his desperation to get Reggie out of there quickly grew. "Look, I don't have time to shoot the fucking breeze. I'll just take Reggie and be on my way."

"Like HELL you will!" the thoroughly terrified bassist shouted, backing further away from the dripping dog.

Bud didn't wait for either of them to put up more of a fight, sweeping forward and grabbing Reggie roughly by the arm as the other bird advanced upon him. He flung Drake back with a terrifying ease, knocking the wind out of him as he hit the wall. He cried out in pain and grabbed his head as the impact aggravated his migraine, struggling to keep the agony at bay. Shaking legs lifted him off the ground as quickly as they could manage, the hazy sight of Bud pulling the struggling plant duck away spurring Drake to his feet. He staggered slightly as his migraine impaired his vision and made his whole world spin.

Reggie dug his feet into the ground in an attempt to keep himself in place, screaming in terror as the other tried to pull him away. His cries stopped when Drake recovered and turned his gun on Bud in a useless attempt to get him to stop.

"I WON'T LET YOU TAKE HIM!" Drake roared, desperate to keep Reggie in his sight.

"And what are you gonna do about it?" Bud sneered, water bubbling in his inability to control his anger.

Drake opened his mouth to answer but closed it again as he slowly accepted the fact that there just _wasn't_ anything he could do. He lowered the weapon in defeat. Reggie's heart sank at the other duck's submission eyes widening in terror at the realization that Drake was absolutely powerless to save him. He began to struggle once again, soft whimpers falling from his bill as he resisted the terrifying hold. The feel of the other's water made him sick to his stomach; the only touch that had ever been comforting to him was now more terrifying than any other.

Drake growled deeply as the watery mammal turned to leave, pulling Reggie behind him. "You really are nothing but his fucking dog, aren't you?" he hissed.

Bud immediately stiffened in fury at the question. "You don't know a damn thing about me!" he screamed, turning back and raising his body to tower above the short duck.

"Oh, I'm sorry I was thrown off by the _bitch_ _collar_ ," Drake snarled defiantly.

Bud was too angry to even respond. He simply gripped the struggling mutant tighter, wrapping him up in his dripping arm and lifting him off the ground to keep him from getting free. The increase in the hold's intensity only served to make Reggie even more terrified, screams pouring from his bill as Bud swept him from the room and up the mass of tunnels leading to the surface. The fluid grip didn't loosen until they made their way outside the abandoned building that the passage lead to, Bud finally setting the quivering bassist back on his roots so he could drag him into the streets.

"GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF ME!" Reggie screamed, pushing at the watery fingers still gripping his wrist.

"Please Reggie," Bud begged, his previous anger fading as he tried to calm the terrified mallard, "Just listen to what I have to say for one second."

The attempt at a comforting tone did nothing to ease Reggie's fear. "I don't want to hear what you have to say!" he screamed increasing his fight to free his arm from Bud's grip. "And I DON'T want you to FUCKING TOUCH ME!"

"I'm trying to help you god damnit!" Bud yelled desperately, latching on to both of Reggie's forearms and pulling him closer in an attempt to keep him from moving away.

It was no use; Reggie was livid, driven insane by pure panic. He couldn't even look at the other mutant, eyes clenched tightly and roots scraping the ground as he screamed into the darkness.

"Just LISTEN to me Reggie! PLEASE! You have to get out of here and you don't have a lot of time! You have no idea what he's going to—."

The sharp squeal of tires against the hard asphalt cut Bud off before he could finish, the familiar sight of Elmo's precious car silhouetted against the faint light of the street lamps making his heart sink.

Reggie's entire body stiffened at the eerie glow of red eyes glaring at them as Negaduck stood on his seat so that he could see them more clearly.

"I see you found my bassist," he said, satisfied edge to his voice. "Where's my other bitch?" he questioned in reference to his allusive lookalike.

It took the drummer a moment to compose himself enough to respond. "I.. don't know," he said, hoping the answer was convincing enough. "All I found was him. He was wandering through the abandoned district trying to get out of the city."

Crimson eyes narrowed at the dog, stating very clearly that he knew the story was bullshit. "Of _course_ you did," Negaduck hissed. "Just get in the fucking car," he finished, dropping himself back into his seat.

Bud hesitated as he suddenly found himself incapable of voluntarily handing Reggie over to the malicious mallard. Reggie pushed away when the other didn't react, finally freeing himself from the fluid grip and making his way towards the car. He yanked the back door open and shoved Jack over roughly by planting an elbow in his ribs to deliver his demand. Jack grunted slightly but didn't say anything about the rough request; he knew damn well why Reggie wanted him in the middle and he wasn't about to put up any resistance. The fuming and scared bassist closed the door swiftly behind him, sinking down in his seat and crossing his arms tightly as an angry scowl settled on his face.

Bud watched the scene with a heavy heart, his entire body slumping in his despair.

Negaduck sneered angrily at the act, quickly growing impatient at being kept waiting. "Get. In. the fucking car," he snarled, scowl only growing when the other still didn't respond. "NOW BUD!"

The drummer jumped slightly at the fury behind the command, finally forcing his reluctant fluid to slip into the empty seat.

"Good dog," Negaduck muttered, turning his attention to his recently reacquired bassist once the other was settled. "Nice to see you again _Reginald_ ," he said gruffly, "So tell me," he continued when the other offered no response, pulling a large side arm from his coat so he could press it beneath Reggie's chin. "What the hell did he tell you?"

Reggie swallowed roughly at the unspoken threat. "Enough to know you won't kill me just yet," he replied, trying his best to keep the fear off his face and out of his voice.

"Doesn't mean I won't _hurt_ you," Negaduck growled in response, pushing the gun roughly against his neck to emphasize his point.

Reggie cringed nervously as the firearm was removed from his skin; if only he didn't know how true that was.

"Now get us the hell outta here Sparks," the aggravated mallard snapped at the rodent beside him. "I ain't getting' any younger."

It was all the urging Elmo required. He shifted the car quickly into drive, speeding off into the waning darkness.

Reggie couldn't stop the soft shudders that spread through his body as the cool air licked his skin and erratically tousled his hair. Everything that Drake had said kept turning over and over in his head, begging the inescapable question of what was going to happen to him next. He couldn't help but grip at his own arms in an ineffective grasp for comfort as his heart sank into his stomach.

He suddenly found himself wishing very badly to be kidnapped again.

 


	11. The Fire

Reggie's suite was no longer a room at all. It had been transformed into a frigid prison: like the last stop on a mortician's cold slab before succumbing to the clammy hands of hell. It felt as though the room was literally freezing all around him.

Reggie had been trapped for countless hours, pacing his room and trying desperately to find a way to escape. His doors and windows leading to the outside had been barred and his light cut off by dark shrouds plastered against the glass. Negaduck knew how much he needed the sun; he wanted to exhaust him to the point he could almost die simply from lethargy. Lack of sun couldn't actually kill him, but it could certainly make him extremely weak. Between the barriers keeping his sunlight out and the iron slabs blocking his escape Negaduck had certainly fixed the problem of Reggie using his abnormally elastic limbs to escape out the window or over the balcony.

The fatigued bassist clutched at the bars on the window, doing his best to hold his weakening body up by clutching one of the steel rods in his shaking grip. His free hand pulled desperately at the black material cutting off his sun, leaves picking at the thin plastic covering in a desperate attempt to peel away enough of the obstruction to let in at least a gleam of life-saving sun. The leafy digits were horribly ill-suited for the task. They bled from the torture, tearing slightly from the continued abuse as he clawed over and over at the window. Reggie whimpered softly as his head fell against the cold metal and his eyes slipped closed in exhaustion; his will was fading as his attempts stretched on with no progress. Blue eyes flew open when he finally felt the material give way beneath his fingers. Strength filled him as he peeled desperately at the small hole, frantically attempting to widen it. He wasn't able to extend it much, but it was enough for him to peer through the opening and feel a small taste of what little illumination was left outside. He practically could have cried at the faint rays that fell upon his face. It was the first glimmer of light he'd seen all day. Unfortunately, it would also be the last. He gripped forlornly at the bars, watching as the last shining rays of sun were stolen away by twilight. Leafy fingers finally released the metal shafts he was still clutching as the golden orb slid below the horizon and the last of the sunlight slipped away with it. Reggie slid slowly to the floor as the exhaustion overcame him. He was allowed to sit there but a moment before his situation got drastically worse.

There was nothing to announce the intrusion before the heavy door struck the wall with a bang, the steel entry flying open as it was pushed forcefully inwards. Reggie cringed at the sight of not only Negaduck, but two guards flanking him on either side— towering over him with their enormous stature. The two large ungulates were beyond menacing. Negaduck didn't normally bother with any type of bodyguard (for the most part he was more than capable of protecting himself despite his small size) but considering the recent bassist-napping he wasn't willing to take any chances as Reggie was transported. The slight advancement of the towering elk to his right immediately had the cringing mutant struggling to his feet, back pressed to the wall behind him in desperation as he begged the boundary to suck him into its borders so he might hide from his fate. It was as though he could feel the harsh and terrifying grip before he was even in their clutches. He didn't even try to struggle. He barely had the energy to stand let alone fight two such huge adversaries.

The two horned guards each grabbed Reggie by an arm, pulling him easily from the room. A barely audible whimper escaped his bill as he tried to ignore the horrible sensation of being touched. Inside he was screaming. The sensation soaked into his skin and burned his entrails. It was like being violated all over again. His body was far too weak to fight despite how much the contact terrified him. Reggie dug his teeth forcefully into the inside of his cheek, biting the flesh roughly do distract himself from the wretched feeling. It was all he could do to keep himself from screaming to be let go. Somewhere in his fatigued mind he knew Negaduck would only punish him more for the show of weakness. They practically dragged him all the way into the devil room without a word passing between them, stopping before the great beast that took up residence in the chamber. Reggie's entire body shook under the statue's stare, his form sinking down as much as it could while still in the clutches of the two massive mammals restraining him. He had been afraid of it before, but now that he knew what secret it harbored it absolutely terrified him. Blue eyes lifted dreadfully to finally meet the horrifying gaze of the monster before him.

He could almost hear the thing whispering dark thoughts in his ear.

In a moment of desperation he tried to yank his arms from the tight grip torturing them. His brief attempt to pull away was put to a quick end when the ram to his left twisted the leafy limb harshly. Reggie winced at the abuse, his form recoiling slightly in pain as Negaduck made his way to stand before the figure. Red eyes stared at the creature, grin overtaking the singer's face as he met the gaze of the statue. It was as though they were sharing some silent conversation that whispered promises of destruction. It was very unnerving. As if the demon was responding to some unspoken request, the ornate fireplace soon began to push itself backwards, stone scraping against stone as the great hearth was forced away from them. Negaduck made his way somewhat lazily onto the now exposed platform, satisfied grin still planted firmly in place. The two large servants responded in tandem, yanking their captive forward to stand beside Negaduck as the wall-less elevator prepared to move. Reggie's heart skipped a beat as they slowly inched lower, the barrier separating them from the sight below quickly disappearing as the platform crept below the floor. He had not expected the ground to so suddenly give way to the realm beneath: the lower levels completely exposed by the strange design of the manor. The tower itself was tall and narrow and now that he had finally seen the building's entrails it was suddenly obvious why. The entire outer layer of the stronghold was but a shell designed to conceal the true machine sleeping in its core. The mechanism rose up the center of the shaft like a decrepit skeleton: jagged edges sticking out in regular intervals making it look very much like an actual spine. Surrounding the eerie backbone was a series of half exposed levels, each floor open to allow their terrors to remain on display for Negaduck’s inspection. Every single level of the strange structure held a unique horror, all filled with rooms of torture designed to break spirits and devour souls. The haunting screams filled Reggie's head with pain: the once muffled cries now crystal clear as though some veil had been lifted to let forth the torrent of repressed suffering. He couldn't stop the shaking of his body, his entire frame quivering under the force of the terrifying sounds.

The small platform almost seemed to crawl down the impressive expanse of the building, groaning angrily with every inch it was forced to move. Servants dressed in black with hooded faces imposed a steady stream of torment upon their prisoners, no walls to steal the twisted images from his view. By the time the small lift finally slowed to a stop they had nearly reached the ground floor. The only level that separated Reggie from escape was the lower great hall where his audition had been held. It was easy to see that the space was the center of operations; the very heart of the massive machine. Reggie could almost hear its retched beat echoing in the steely depths.

Like the levels above, the one they ended on also had several different rooms. The one they arrived in was small and quite unimposing. It was the space beyond that had Reggie's weary mind reeling with awe. All around him strange vessels sat containing an odd liquid behind their clear barriers. Despite the dim lighting in the room the tubes shimmered, glowing eerily against the darkness behind them. He watched in fascination as the odd yellow liquid bubbled and churned somewhat turbulently as though trying to break free from the glass confines. A suspended walkway was connected to the largest of the five vats, the narrow stairway at its back serving as a way to access the caustic fluid restrained behind the crystalline wall.

Negaduck grunted slightly in amusement as he watched Reggie's reaction to one of his favorite inventions. He made his way idly over to the nearest container, unable to resist pausing to brag about his ingenious creation. "Magnificent aren't they?" he mused, staring almost amorously at the glowing tubes. "Making your little _boyfriend_ into the abomination he is always was one of my crowning moments of scientific genius," he continued, rubbing his fingers lightly over the glowing surface. "He'd do anything I wanted if I just made him special. Heh, how fucking pathetic is that?!" he finished turning on Reggie with a demented smile and a gruff laugh.

Reggie wasn't sure what made him glare slightly at the comment, but it soon had him staring curiously at the shining vessels. So this was the infamous fluid that had altered Bud so drastically.

"But enough sightseeing," Negaduck continued after a moment, finally tearing his attention from the large basins in order to lead the way down the short passage that would yield their destination.

Reggie didn't really walk at all: held up almost completely by the tight grip on both his arms as the guards pulled his exhausted body with them as they obediently followed Negaduck down the darkened hall. The pitch black tunnel seemed to feed off his fear, taunting his fragile mind with deceitful glimpses of escape.

There wouldn't be any.

Time suddenly seemed to slow to a crawl for Reggie. The hallway was short but yet it somehow seemed to stretch on forever. When it finally did end Reggie found himself wishing it was longer. The narrow tunnel gave way to the true heart of the imposing building. A great ring of thick steel encircled the very base of the machine, the metal plates littered with a strange array of ominous switches. It was obviously the control panel. Reggie could just barely remember seeing it sketched in the book Drake had shown him. A slightly raised platform allowed access to the controls while an odd-looking surgical table allowed the necessary power to be harnessed from the massive energy source buried below. But for his current needs that amount of power wouldn't be necessary. Elmo alone was enough to control Reggie's means of destruction. It was one of several devious devices surrounded the space and the one glass encased oddity that caught the terrified bassist's eye immediately. It looked unnervingly like a gas chamber; Reggie was sure it was something much worse. It almost seemed to torture him before he was even forced inside it. He noticed the heat very abruptly: some strange, building fire that almost seemed to seep through the floor and up into his veins. Reggie shuddered at the sensation. It was starting to feel as though there were hot coals beneath his feet even though the metal floor was cool to the touch. He whimpered softly as he tried to lift his suffering roots away from the discomfort. The small movement earned him another painful jerk to his arm. He didn't attempt to repeat the action as he was pulled the rest of the way towards the unnerving setup in front of them.

Elmo and Jack were already there, situated beside the device and looking none too pleased about it. Bud's absence was very obvious. Reggie wasn't sure if he was relieved or not. Something made him wish he was there: some desperate desire for the protection the dog had once provided.

"You two," an impatient Negaduck snapped at the silent guards, "Chain the bassist up and get out of my sight."

The underlings complied with little more than a nod to show their obedience, slamming Reggie forcefully backwards and chaining him in a pair of convenient metal restraints attached to the wall. Reggie couldn't help but notice that there were several more sets situated further down.

"You know Reginald," Negaduck commented almost distantly, "There are two ways to die by this machine. Have your physical form slaughtered and gather the soul at the moment of death, or allow the being to live on with whatever precious bits of their pathetic essence they can cling pitifully to." He paused so he could turn his red eyes upon his helpless captive. "I _was_ going to just rip your soul out and let you live, but my meddling little lookalike decided to run his fucking mouth. SO, I'm just going to kill you and eat your soul anyway," he finished with a wave of his wrist, turning back to the two guitarists standing by the metallic vessel. "FAGGOT!" he suddenly continued, "Get Sparks ready while I deal with our little _friend_."

His eyes narrowed when he received no response from the two. Elmo was cringing and wringing his hands together in obvious distress.

"NOW!" Negaduck yelled, causing the nervous rodent to jump slightly.

"You said you weren't gonna kill him!" he managed to retort.

"Well plans have fucking changed!" the furious singer yelled in reply.

Elmo responded with a pathetic look. Jack could clearly see how badly he didn't want to help Negaduck murder Reggie. The jester did his best to offer comfort, placing a reassuring hand on his companion's furry shoulder as though to try and convince him it would be okay. It fell painfully short of making Elmo feel any better.

"You'd better hurry it the fuck up Quack or I will seriously maim you both," Negaduck growled darkly.

Jack glared at the comment but began preparing to hook Elmo up to the murderous mechanism anyway.

Reggie did his best to control his painfully audible breathing as he responded to his instinctual need to try and escape by doing the only thing he could think of at the moment: stalling for time. "I thought you had to kill me anyway," he said as he twisted his wrists subtly against the cuffs binding them, searching for weaknesses in the overused metallic rings.

"Heh, seems you've misunderstood," Negaduck replied, "I don't _need_ to kill you, it just has to be possible. Killing you just allows me to take your entire soul instead of just part of it. I don't actually need the entire thing. Just the dead part. And there is a little bit that isn't but it's too small an amount for you to really have any free will. So I could control you, and I must say I would _very_ much enjoy having your corpse around as my personal slave. Especially after all the SHIT you've put me through," he finished with a gruff growl.

Reggie resisted the urge to point out that most of it wasn't actually his doing.

"But immortals cannot be killed," he continued, "A soul cannot be taken from a body that can't die, otherwise I would have eaten what was left of _his_ a long time ago."

They both knew who he was referring to.

"But he is you."

It was the only thing Reggie could think of to say, but he immediately regretted it as Negaduck turned the full force of his fury upon him.

"I am NOT him!" he roared, almost seeming to tower over Reggie despite his true height, "I am so much more than _Darkwing_ ever was! Forged in the chaos of death and destruction, birthed of insanity and the thrill of the slaughter I have a strength he could never HOPE to possess!"

Reggie swallowed thickly at the angry response, squirming pathetically against his bonds.

"Any more fucking _questions_ Reginald?" the angry avian growled.

Reggie paused for a moment as though considering if he should actually say what he was thinking.

"Anything?" he finally managed to question meekly.

Negaduck actually laughed at the retort, snorting slightly as a lopsided grin snuck across his face. "Why not?" he said, "I mean you're as good as dead and I do so love discussing my magnificence."

Reggie had to force his eyes not to roll at the egotistical display. "I suppose there's one thing I don't quite get," he finally replied, "Why the metal band in the first place?"

"HA! What better place to find my army?" Negaduck laughed, "A built in following of hundreds of _millions_ of the blackest, cruelest and most blindly brutal souls on earth! They fed me for YEARS simply with their adoration and violence lust. But their souls are too weak to give me what I truly need. Now weren't they?"

Blue eyes shifted away in response to the malevolent stare.

"The bassists are devoured immediately," Negaduck continued, pausing for a moment to motion to the twisted space above them. "Others are brought here to be tortured and killed or left to serve in my army's ranks. They're not really alive at all, more like walking corpses. Kinda like zombies.. with less putrefaction and brain craving," he finished matter-of-factly.

"Aren't they kinda… useless," Reggie continued in an attempt to keep the other talking.

"Pfft, they can head bang, beat the shit out of each other and take orders. That's all I require," the singer responded distantly, already starting to grow tired of the conversation. "They're not what matters anyway. They're just an obedient little army birthed into this world to be my rotting puppets; my eyes and ears designed to help me keep watch over my domain. Merging with that beast is the only thing that really matters, and the last thing I require to make that happen is you."

Reggie didn't like the dementedly elated look he received one bit.

"Merging with that monster is more than just a means of ultimate power, it's the only way for me to be free of _him_ once and for all. To finally shed all that which makes me weak. To cut myself away from any remaining hint of _Drake Mallard_ ," Negaduck snarled—saying the name as though it was unfit to be uttered by his tongue. He paused for a moment to collect his slipping emotions as he head throbbed. "But enough stalling," he said. "This conversation is boring me." He turned away from the bound mutant in favor of making his way towards the others. "Aren't you fucking done yet?!" he barked at the mallard still attempting to attach his electrical companion to the glass-encased chamber.

"Just one fucking second!" Jack growled, trying to hide the way he cringed as he was forced to embed the evil attachment in his hand to the base of Elmo's neck.

Reggie didn't wait for that one second to arrive, lashing out viciously as his survival instinct kicked in. His exhausted body reacted as best it could, leaves stretching frantically against the cuffs still holding them in place, bleeding profusely as they finally slipped free of the harsh bonds. A horrid feeling filled his gut as he realized one of his sleeves had gotten snagged on the metal. Reggie winced as coat ripped, the front of the garment pulling open as it was stretched beneath the strain. He could feel the agony as though it was his own skin that tore; he was powerless to stop the brief sob that he let forth at the wounding of the beloved item. It didn't slow his attempt to escape, trench coat trailing behind him as he ran. With a string of volatile cursing, Negaduck pursued. The other drake's significantly longer stride put him immediately in the lead, but Negaduck was quick and Reggie was exhausted. With a vicious growl the furious singer latched onto the long black coat, forcing the fleeing mallard to the floor and causing his face to hit the ground with an audible smack. The now disoriented mutant groaned at the pain that shot through his bill and into his head, clawing at the ground as best he could to try and get away.

Negaduck was not pleased in the slightest.

Reggie's eyes widened at the sudden stab of pain that shot through his side, howling in agony as the serrated blade cut an angry wound deep into his skin, carving through the green flesh as it was forced upwards. Feathered fingers twined forcefully into his hair, yanking his head back roughly as Negaduck forced him to his knees. The second time the knife embedded itself in Reggie’s back, carving a deep wound as it was pulled down his spine. Immediately the action was repeated, a twin wound being sliced into his flesh crossing over the first to create a horrifying X across his skin. Reggie howled in agony, ripping his petals from the harsh grasp and leaving the furious singer with a handful of the purple foliage as he attempted once again to get away. The wound to Reggie’s vertebrae was extremely debilitating to his mobility, even if it was only temporary. The dark blood poured from his wounds, leaving a sickly green smear on the ground as he tried to pull himself away. He didn't get far—his strange spine sticking jaggedly through the marred meat of his back, exposing the tender nerves normally protected by the now delicate and plant-like bones. Negaduck gripped at his coat once again, the pull causing the fabric to tear more at the yanking. Reggie instinctively pulled his arms from the garment, unable to even process his attachment to the item in his blind fear. Negaduck growled furiously at the continued defiance, dropping the coat and wrapping his fingers back in Reggie's hair. He embedded his blade into the side of the taller bird's neck to keep him from struggling long enough so that he could pull the flailing mutant onto his back and towards the menacing chamber he had been so desperately trying to escape.

Negaduck threw the injured body crudely into the ominous cavity before closing the thick circular door behind him and bolting it tightly. Reggie almost sobbed at the terrifying clank that resulted—petrified of being trapped yet again. He yanked the blade from his tender skin, wincing in pain and coughing blood as the weapon fell to the floor with a clatter. The injury brought him to his knees as he gasped for air, his body healing much slower in his fatigue. His spine struggled to connect muscle back to bone so the sickly array of mangled flesh could function enough to be useful. Reggie groaned miserably as his form slumped in exhaustion and pain before forcing blue eyes to address the menace before him.

Negaduck's glare almost harbored the power to kill him all on its own. "You could have made this all a _HELL_ of a lot easier for both of us you know," the furious singer snarled, "You could have just laid back and took it like the little _bitch_ you are, but you just HAD to make my fucking headache worse, didn't you?!"

Reggie didn't reply.

"For someone who doesn't want to live you sure make one hell of a fuss about dying," Negaduck finished in disgust.

A momentary glance to the side happened to strike an idea in Negaduck’s head. He grinned evilly as he bent to retrieve the black garment at his feet. He held it up as though displaying it for Reggie's inspection. He relished in the distressed look he received in response. He dug his spare knife forcefully into the fabric, slicing yet another hole into the already tattered coat, extending the rip by hand just for the pleasure of seeing the horrified look on Reggie's face. The defeated mallard couldn't control the watering of his eyes.

"I sure hope you don't expect that pathetic MUTT to save you this time," Negaduck snarled as he threw the tortured fabric back to the floor uncouthly, "He's quite preoccupied at the moment."

Reggie actually growled at this. "Who said I want him to?"

Negaduck laughed slightly despite the glare in his eyes. "You know at first I despised the disgusting little _relationship_ you two formed. Bud always was one of the only assholes I could actually stand having around for more than a few moments, but ever since you've been here he's been nothing but a fucking disgrace," he paused to grin knowingly at Reggie, "Heh, but then he went and made you all the more perfect for my plans."

Reggie cringed at the statement, somehow already able to see its meaning before the other bird even explained himself.

"You think _anything_ happens in MY house without me finding out about it eventually?" Negaduck said darkly as he advanced upon the glass separating them. "You were just what I needed before but thanks to him you're fucking perfect! He hurt you _far_ more than I ever could have."

With that he turned away from the trapped duck in favor of making his way towards the pair of guitarists that had finally finished all the preparations.

"I was really hoping to get a damn concert outta you before I ended this, but considering I got an entire album I suppose it wasn't a total loss," he added as an afterthought as he made his way towards the controls of the glass encased tomb Reggie was now stuck in. With a final evil grin he flipped the switch and began the countdown of the horrified bassist's final moments. Elmo shuddered unhappily as the machine began to drain the electricity from him, letting out a choked cry as the flow of current was stolen from his slender frame. Reggie stood in terror at the first sounds of the engine whirling to life. He backed away desperately as though he might be able to escape it, but there was nowhere to run.

"I've tried to murder you dozens of times Bushroot and I have learned one thing very clearly from all that," Negaduck said, speaking loudly to overcome the noise, "Fire's the only way to kill you," he finished darkly.

The comment nearly went unheard: the final firing of the furnaces terrifying Reggie to the point that it almost deafened him to everything around him. The fear struck at his very soul like a stab of pain before the anguish even began. The flames were not far behind the eerie seeping of flammable vapor beneath him, one burner slightly ahead of the others sending up a single blast of fire that engulfed Reggie's entire left side. He howled in pain at the contact of the searing heat against his face and body, head falling back and mouth agape as the flames blinded his eye and blistered his flesh. His knife wounds suddenly felt like mere pin pricks. As if his cries of pain snapped some long held boundary, chaos soon erupted. The living wave rushed into the room at such a pace that the shocked occupants could hardly even register it was there at all. It immediately plowed into Elmo, knocking him forcefully back and into the furious singer behind him. The two fell into a convulsing, tangled heap on the ground, disabling and disorienting Negaduck enough for a rescue mission to take place.

Bud solidified before the metallic compartment separating him from the suffering duck beyond. He gripped the door with both hands, the metal groaning in protest as the might of his water quickly yanked the heavy barrier right off its hinges so he could rush into the chamber. His fluid immediately extinguished the flames from below as he wrapped Reggie up in his arms, protecting the rest of his body from being burned and easing the damage already done. He rushed immediately from the smoldering cell, not willing to waste even a second of the time he had bought himself with his entry. His fleeing form swept turbulently through the hall toward the only place he could go. He only hoped he could get there in time.

Back in the control room screams of fury resonated loudly against the walls as Negaduck pulled his soaking and still slightly convulsing body to its feet and forced it to take off at a run after the liquid fiend. Jack stared in shock at the departing lead singer, slipping slowly from where he was situated behind his now waterlogged and miserable companion once he was sure the rat was ok. There was something else in the room that required his attention, and he found himself inexplicably drawn to it. He stopped just in front of the forgotten coat, bending slowly so that he could take the garment with tender hands. Jack was oddly afraid of moving too harshly: somehow worried the coat might suffer more if he was not careful with it. He clutched the tattered and stained piece of clothing to his chest, unable to control the sudden emotion welling within him. He couldn't help the silent plea that sounded inside him for them to make it. For everything to be ok.

It mirrored the desperate prayer sounding over and over in another's head.

Bud rushed with all his might through the tense metropolis, praying internally that he didn't run into any of Negaduck's lackeys. He was powerless to control the miserable cry that escaped him as he took in the sight of the charred duck in his arms. More than half of the delicate petals on Reggie’s head had been stripped away by the fire, his green flesh singed and horribly disfigured by the ruthless flames. His left eye had been dealt a particularly debilitating blow; the burning nearly melting the vulnerable tissue away from beneath the heavy lid attempting to protect it. The singed eyelid did its best to defend the decaying orb, watering excessively to try and sooth the injury, but wasn't quite able to close over the wound making the half open eye a very unnerving sight for the watery mammal clinging desperately to the dying man in his arms.

"Don't you dare fucking die, you hear me," Bud sobbed, hugging the nearly lifeless body close to his chest.

"Don't die."

 


	12. The Fever

Darkness had engulfed Reggie's world. A heavy silence pressed against his ears as he floated between life and death, somehow barely clinging to consciousness as he was swept away from the turmoil behind him. Only two soft words pierced the muted veil: repeating over and over in Reggie's head as though playing out a mantra he wasn't even aware he had adopted.

"Don't die."

 _Why not?_ He found himself questioning. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't seem to control his thoughts enough to even be sure he wasn't just talking to himself.

No.

No, he was sure it was someone else. Someone who cared about him? No, couldn't be. No one cared about him.

A heart-wrenching sob sounded at the inner monolog as the horrible thoughts caused Reggie to curl in on himself even more. Bud sped up as much as possible, actually panting under the physical exertion as he pushed his body to its limit. He took the miserable cry as a sign Reggie's condition was declining even more, and the very thought filled him with terror. In fact, Bud had never felt such fear in his life. He swept swiftly through the abandoned part of town, quickly slipping into the nearest entry to the underground. His fluid weaved frantically through the labyrinth of tunnels protecting the subversive city below, the many passageways doing little to slow his pace. He burst into the main hall almost unaware that there were even people in his way as he rushed through the dingy hideout. The terrified residents of the subterranean realm scurried out of the way as Bud swept passed them; he still nearly plowed several of them over in his haste. He could care less about them at the moment: only his destination was important.

He kicked the defenseless door in with a bang, the sight of the harshly quaking dog, chest heaving and severely injured mutant mallard clenched tightly in his arms, immediately filling the room with an uncharacteristic silence as the collection of children stared in horror, some even crying at the sight. Frantic fluid eyes quickly searched out the occupant Bud was looking for, turning his panic upon the short duck currently gaping at him from the long table across the room.

Launchpad's cigar slipped from his bill as he turned to face the sight that had put his friend in such a state of shock, the smoldering stick falling to the ground as the pilot gaped at the two disheveled mutants. "Fuck," he breathed out softly, unable to offer more of a response as he stared at Reggie's sickly wounds.

Luckily the other mallard was far more capable of producing a helpful reaction.

"Come with me," Drake barked, urgently making his way through the terrified mass of small bodies so he could push past the distraught drummer.

Bud simply did as he was told, following swiftly behind the other as he made his way further into the depths of the underground city. The dripping mammal was grateful that their destination wasn't too far, his panic easing only slightly as they made their way into the surprisingly well stocked medical center.

"Bellum!" Drake yelled, already searching frantically for the absentminded doctor. "BELLUM!" he repeated angrily when he received no indication of the other avian's location, the bellowing of his voice finally catching the attention of said scatterbrained scientist.

"Geez chill out boss man," came the irritatingly relaxed reply as the slender bird finally slipped lazily from the small storage room she had been rifling through, "What have I told you about that blood pressure of yours?" she asked mockingly.

Bud couldn't help but notice the strange and unnervingly large needle grasped in her hands, slightly disturbed at the way she rubbed the glass syringe with the sleeve of her lab coat.

"I was just about to test my new serum, so this had better be-" she stopped the words dead in their tracks as she finally took in the sight of her unusual visitors. "Holy shit," she said, stupidly shocked expression on her face as she moved abruptly closer to the protective drummer and his precious cargo. "Is that the new _mutant_?"

"Yes!" Drake yelled, "And in case you _can't_ tell, HE'S FUCKING DYING!"

"Right!" Bellum said, the reminder pulling her from the shock produced by the strange combination of plant and duck currently shivering in Bud's arms. "Right, right, right," she repeated as she searched haphazardly through the various medical devices littering the room, considering her options carefully. "Put him there," she said to the drummer behind her, snapping her fingers to get his attention before pointing to the exam table nearby.

Bud slipped onto the slightly plush surface, holding Reggie in his lap for fear that without his water the delicate skin might immediately burst into flames once more. Just as he was settling the still shaking and barely conscious duck into a comfortable position, Launchpad finally made his way into the space, Gosalyn trailing closely behind him. The teen couldn't help the soft gasp she let out at the sight of the injured bassist across the room.

"What can we do to help?" Launchpad questioned urgently, desperate to do something to aid the situation.

"Just get me a damn botanist!" Bellum ordered curtly, struggling to try and figure out what to do with the strange flesh pressed beneath her probing fingers.

"Which botanist?"

"What's her name…. Doctor Dendron."

Launchpad rubbed at his chin as he attempted to force his not-so-brilliant mind to recall exactly which of their four botanists that was. "… the hot one?" he finally asked.

"Yeah, whatever. Just get her up here!"

Launchpad didn't say anything else as he rushed off to find the plant doctor, Gosalyn quickly following behind him to aid in the search as much as to get away from the disturbing sight of the mallard in the other room. "The _hot_ one LP?" she questioned as they ran, her voice clearly displaying the "are you serious" undertones.

"Hey kid, don't be judgin'," Launchpad muttered, splitting off from the other redhead as they made their way to search in different directions.

Back in the improvised hospital, Bellum continued to bark orders at Drake, doing her best to find something she could do that wouldn't risk hurting the injured duck even more as her stand-in nurse brought her various bandages and other basic medical supplies. She had no idea how Reggie would react to any medication in his plant-like state and she dared not risk the possible devastating outcome that could result. All she could think to do was observe his condition closely as she waited for help to come. If they were going to save him they desperately needed someone who knew about plants. All the frantic doctor could do was hope that the merging of medical and botanical science could save him.

A collective sigh of relief sounded into the room when Launchpad finally returned with the beautiful, chestnut-haired scientist in tow. The relief was broken quickly at the uncharacteristically uncouth reaction the lovely duck provided. She almost squealed in excitement at the sight of the captivating oddity clasped in Bud's arms; she had heard about the living mixture of flora and fauna and she quickly found she just couldn't contain her excitement at finally getting to see it for herself.

"Oh, my, GOD there he is!" Rhoda said with a high pitched cry of delight, rushing over to begin her own examination of the lightly shuddering bird. "Isn't he fantastic," she mused distantly, her mind completely entranced by the sight despite Reggie's disfiguration.

Bud growled gutturally at the unhelpful reaction, pulling the vulnerable plant in his arms away from her slightly in his anger.

" _Yeah_ , study the scientific oddity later!" Drake snapped, equally unamused by the doctor's reaction, "Right now we need you to help us save him so you can examine more than a fucking corpse!"

Rhoda stiffed at the retort, turning suddenly shocked eyes on the shorter duck. "What am I supposed to do?!"

"We need to figure out something to put on the burns," Dr. Bellum replied, silently coaxing Bud to ease Reggie onto his uninjured side.

"Like _what_?" the other scientist questioned, shock still clinging to her voice.

"I don't know something that's good for plants! That's why I asked you up here. I need your help goddamnit!"

Rhoda jumped slightly at the more dominating personality of the other female. "Well.." she said, pausing as she considered what they could possibly use that would be good for both plants and people. "I suppose I could put together some kind of aloe concoction so we can use the plant plasma to-"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just do it!" Bellum barked, uninterested in one of the other woman's unnecessarily lengthy explanations of plant biology. "All I know for sure right now is _he's_ the only thing keeping him alive," she said pointing a finger at the distraught drummer. "If he loses that water for even a moment I'm convinced he'll die," she finished, not pausing her prep work as she spoke.

Bud gaped in horror at the comment, clutching Reggie closer at the very idea as Rhoda rushing off without a word to prepare said concoction as quickly as possible.

"What do you need us to do?" Drake questioned once the other avian had left.

"I need you and Launchpad to help me peel away the burnt skin," she responded simply, already handing both men a pair of large flat tweezers, "Just be careful about it!" she barked as an afterthought as she positioned herself at Reggie's head so she could work on the particularly traumatized area around his eye.

She turned a serious stare on the wet mammal still clinging fearfully to the limp body in his grip. "As we work our way down I need you to immediately submerge the flesh after we get the burnt skin off him," she stated gently, obviously aware the distraught dog required a bit more of a tender touch at the moment than her usual aggressive mannerisms could provide. "The tissue underneath is going to be very vulnerable until we can get it bandaged so he'll need that protection."

Bud nodded shakily as he tried to compose himself enough to not start sobbing at the stress of the situation. It would do Reggie no good if he broke down now. He winced at the sight before him as the three birds began to peel the charred skin from the sickly burned flesh beneath, covering the exposed areas as they worked their way steadily but urgently downwards. Bud was happy to see Reggie was no longer even remotely conscious enough to feel what was being done to him.

"What about his leg?" Launchpad queried, brow cocked at the strange disposition of Reggie's lower half as he reached the rough skin of his hips.

"Just bandage it for now," the doctor replied, not taking her attention off the injured eye she was still fussing with. "I'm not sure what else to do.. it's not the same as the rest of him."

Launchpad didn't even have a chance to voice his compliance before the beautiful botanist finally reappeared, panting heavily from the strain of the sprinting she had done to get there.

"Here," she wheezed out, gripping her heaving chest with one hand as she held out the pale green paste with the other.

Drake rushed over to take the container, returning it swiftly to the other doctor as Rhoda recovered. She took it quickly, gently pushing at Bud's arm in a wordless demand for him to remove the appendage from the sickly, bleeding flesh it was protecting. The drummer couldn't help the soft sound of sorrow he let out as he watched her spread the substance over the now exposed tissue, his mind soon slipping almost completely away as he lost himself in the sight of the bird in his watery lap. He was powerless against the upset sniffles that began to sound softly into the room. At least the others had the decency not to mention it as they began to bandage the now treated injuries. He was just grateful it was over.

He only hoped it was enough to keep Reggie alive.

Time seemed to crawl by.

It had been nearly ten days and Drake was becoming increasingly worried as the length of time they were forced to keep the bassist hidden stretched on. He was just grateful Bud was around to tend to the ill mallard. That was the last thing he needed to worry about as he and his followers did all they could to keep Negaduck at bay. A small room had been vacated to act as an ICU for the still debilitated duck. Various machines beeped all around the two mutants currently residing in the chamber, the battery-powered devices set up in an attempt for the two collaborating doctors to monitor Reggie's condition. Bud had very much grown to hate the incessant sounds.

For days he hadn't left Reggie's side, only taking his eyes off him for a few moments at a time when he was forced to rest. The strain was starting to exhaust him. Even he needed sleep now and then, but Reggie had required so much care that he hadn't seen much of it lately. Cool fingers swept gently across the unconscious mallard's fevered brow. Bud stared forlornly at the fabric covering Reggie's injured eye, sighing as he noticed the sickening stain that was just starting to form from the blood collecting underneath. He eased the bandages gingerly away from the still aggravated skin with a sigh, pulling it away from the closed eyelid so he could inspect its condition and replace its dressings. Gentle fingers forced the injured organ open slowly, Bud diligently inspecting the damaged orb's condition. Although the impaired eye had begun to heal better than anyone had expected, as the days wore on it was increasingly obvious that it would never function properly again. The beautiful, brilliant blue had been tainted with a milky color, the iris clouded as though blocked by a hazy fog. No one was yet sure whether Reggie would actually be able to see out of it or not, but at the very least it wasn't going to rot out of his head. Most of the rest of him was actually faring better than the particularly sensitive tissue of his eye. His burns were slowly starting to scar over with new flesh and his hair had quickly grown back. Bud was thankful the filaments had regrown so well. And not just because he happened to enjoy the petals but because he knew how self-conscious Reggie would be with half his head scarred and bald. At least with the purple mass intact he looked basically like his old self. Or at least he would if not for all the bandages. His scalp had received the least of the damage; most of the blow to his head had been dealt to his eye. The entire area around it was now a sickly open wound, the injury stretching back along his head and down his neck.

The horrid burn covered almost the entire expanse of his left side, the wound ending abruptly just above his hips. His lower half had fared much better. The more bark-like skin had healed remarkably well from the trauma and it was no longer even possible to tell it had been burned at all. Even the bandages were only necessary for a few days. The more vulnerable flesh that composed the rest of his body was a far different story. It struggled to heal itself, ever so slowly recovering the ability to fill in the missing muscle with scar tissue as his body regained some of its strength. For a moment it seemed things were improving.

Then came the fever.

It burned Reggie from the inside out, wracking his body with tremors and driving him mad with twisted delusions. The few times he was remotely lucid all he could do was demand a cigarette and sit, blankly staring until the tobacco was gone and he slipped from consciousness once again. When he wasn't resting feverishly he was lashing out: mindlessly attacking imaginary tormentors. As if the horrid hallucinations could hear that Bud was thinking about them, Reggie suddenly began to shift violently in his sleep, new bandages barely in place before his body yanked itself forcefully into a sitting position and began to pull at the wires still attached to him.

Bud acted before the scream even sounded into the room, rushing back from where he was putting the roll of bandages away and quickly slipping behind the now wailing bassist. He grit his teeth tightly, miserable expression crossing his face as he attempted to control Reggie during his latest attack. The terrified mallard cried out uncontrollably as he tried to wretch his body from the watery grip now holding him in place. Bud pulled Reggie closer as he began to struggle more. It was all he could do to keep the still injured mallard from hurting himself as his body tried to heal. He sighed heavily, closing his eyes and resting his chin atop Reggie's head as the thrashing finally slowed to a stop and the screams turned into soft whimpers. Bud took in a shaky breath as he hugged the suffering bird close. He laid him back on the bed gingerly as he slipped from the mattress, pulling his rickety wooden chair closer so he could sit beside the uneasily resting duck. He sighed as he placed a hand on the soaked bed.

There was nothing he could do about the constant dampness. Bud could mostly keep his water under enough control not to soak everything he touched but under the circumstances it couldn't be helped. Reggie didn't seem to mind in the slightest; the water actually soothed his fever, and as long as the liquid remained cool it was like a godsend to the barley cognizant duck. Bud's fluid fingers pressed against the water trapped within the cushion, the simple contact allowing him to control its temperature in order to combat the heat Reggie's illness filled it with and the warmth produced by the UV light they were forced to set up to help keep him alive. Without the luxury of actual sunlight it was the best they could do. The cooling effect of his water generally helped calm Reggie after one of the panicked fits, but that day seemed odd compared to those that had preceded it. All day the bassist had been acting different; he was almost more aware of things at times, but yet he was obviously more disturbed than usual. He began to pant heavily and shift in agony at the fever-induced nightmares tormenting his fragile mind. Just as Bud was about to do something about it, a single blue eye shot open.

Reggie screamed in terror as his body shot upright once again, the dog to his left immediately grabbing him and pulling him against his chest in a desperate embrace in case he began to struggle once more. The violent outburst didn't come, but Bud was very unprepared for what he _was_ forced to endure.

" _Spike_?"

The choked question was barely a whisper in the silent room. The tightly clenched eyes Bud hadn't even realized he closed opened slowly as a look of shock pushed through his exhaustion to show on his face. He pulled hesitantly away from the now semi-conscious duck staring forlornly at him. He couldn't help his sorrow at seeing only one blue eye staring back at him. The weary eye widened beneath the force of liquid held behind it. Before Bud even knew what was going on he was suddenly holding a severely shuddering Reggie, the mutant mallard throwing his arms around his neck and clinging desperately to him as his body shook.

"Spiike!" Reggie cried, "I thought you were dead, I- I must have dreamt it. There.. there was so much _blood_ ," he continued, body heaving slightly as he rubbed at his watering eye. "I could have sworn you were dying right there in my arms."

All the stunned drummer could bring himself to do was grip Reggie tightly as the mallard whimpered softly and buried his face in Bud's moist neck.

"It was all my fault," Reggie wailed, dry sobs wracking his body once again.

Bud's eyes widened at the words, pained expression displaying his sympathy for other's grief. He pulled him closer as he felt the bassist's pain seep through his chest and into his soul. "It wasn't your fault Reggie," he whispered, tears echoing in his voice.

He couldn't think of anything else to say. All he could do was hold the slender and shaking frame close as Reggie hugged him in painfully unmerited relief. In his fevered state the duck had hallucinated his watery caregiver to be everyone from his childhood bully to his dead mother whom he had never even met before, but nothing could have prepared Bud for standing in as a lost friend. The now unnerved dog helped Reggie lay himself carefully back against the bed as his fatigue overcame him and he was forced to release his hold on the other man. He continued to mutter random things to his "old friend" as he began to slip once again from consciousness.

Bud couldn't help the sobs that overtook him as Reggie finally drifted back off to sleep, the days of stressful worry and diligent care finally catching up with him. He suddenly wanted more than anything to bring this unknown person back for Reggie, but nothing would change the fact that when the plant-duck woke his friend would still be dead. Bud just wished with all his heart that the other mutant might let him fill that painfully empty void.

The heart-wrenching delusion somehow seemed to relieve some of Reggie’s physical anguish, the lethargic duck finally resting somewhat peacefully. The fever broke only a few hours later, allowing Reggie to fall into the first real sleep Bud had seen him manage since his illness began. He let out a soft sigh of relief, finally able to tend to his own needs as the world around him began to sway slightly in his exhaustion. The liquid canine curled up in the nearby bucket that had been left for him to nap in, slipping quickly into an uneasy sleep.

Hours passed as both the rooms residents rested silently. Bud was unaccustomed to being unconscious for such long periods of time, his fluid disposition usually allowing him to rest for just a couple hours every few days, but caring for Reggie was draining, forcing Bud to miss his usual naps as he cared for his patient. The disruption to his sleep pattern quickly forced the canine to slumber for much longer periods of time than he was used to. He didn't mind the extra rest, but he didn't like the dreams. He didn't usually sleep long enough for there to even be any, and they had become something of a foreign sensation for him. His water churned uneasily as imaginary terrors filled his head, images of gore and lost love torturing him. The distressed dog awoke with a start, head flipping nervously back and forth as he tried to force his sleep-clouded gaze to register the room around him. He sighed heavily as the sight finally reminded him of what was going on in the real world; what he wasn't prepared for was the sight of the now conscious mallard huddled against the wall, legs pulled to his heaving chest as he moved as far away from the drummer as he could while still remaining on the bed.

"Where the _fuck_ am I?" Reggie questioned, his voice weak and slightly shaking but still obviously angry.

The overwhelming mixture of relief, anxiety and sorrow Bud was suddenly facing left him quite unable to respond at first. "Back in the underground," he finally managed.

"How.. how long?" Reggie asked, struggling to get the words out through his rising fear.

"…ten days," Bud replied gently.

The attempt at a consoling tone did nothing to lessen Reggie's discomfort. He swallowed painfully around the dryness in his throat. He was very uneasy about being trapped in such a small space with the dripping drummer.

Bud could clearly see it. "Reggie," he whispered softly, taking a cautious step forward.

"Just stay the fuck away from me!" Reggie yelled, fear rising as the other man tried to flow closer.

Bud winced at the command, unable to stop the severe quaking of his body at once again being banned from touching the duck. He had grown far too accustomed to coming to the Reggie’s aid at even the slightest hint of distress. Now that Reggie was back in his right mind he was fully aware of what had happened to him before he fell unconscious, and that included what Bud had done to him. He was far from ready to forgive and completely unaware of all that the attentive canine had done for him over the preceding days.

"Reggie," Bud repeated pitifully, completely incapable of controlling himself as he tried desperately to inch closer once again.

The continued movement quickly prompted a response.

Reggie fell from the bed, wincing in pain as he hit the floor and aggravated his still present injuries. Trembling fingers yanked at the wires connecting him to the nearby collection of machines, ripping the probes from his skin as he forced his body to escape from the dog. There was only one other door in the room besides the one Bud was currently blocking and Reggie didn't care where it lead. In fact, it led into something of a small closet: a seldom used storage room containing a jumble of random items. It wasn't a real escape but it was enough of a safe haven to make Reggie feel somewhat more at ease. He pressed his back to the door once he had closed it, whimpering quietly as his physically drained body slid down the wooden barrier.

Bud's heart skipped a beat as he urgently closed the gap between him and the other doorway. "Look Reggie I am _so_ sorry! Please, just let me help you," he cried, pressing trembling hands against the rough surface.

"I don't care if you're fucking sorry!" Reggie yelled, voice slightly muffled by the board between them. "You think just because you saved my life that it's okay now?! That what you did will EVER be okay?!"

"I-" A choked sob cut Bud off before he could even begin. He suddenly felt as though he was suffocating, irrational though it was, and he was barely able to take in a shaky breath so he could continue. "I'm so sorry Reggie, and I don't deserve your forgiveness… but you can't tell me you don't have feelings for me. That you don't _feel_ what I feel when we're together."

"I'm not gay!" Reggie immediately retorted, desperate for some justification to convince himself it wasn't true.

"It's not about being gay and you know it!" Bud snapped, slightly angry at the response, "That's just a convenient excuse."

Silence was his only reply.

"I know you care about me," Bud continued softly when Reggie didn't respond. "And If you want my affection, this is what you get. If not… I'll.. I'll leave, and you'll never have to see me again."

"So, what? I let you fuck me or you'll just leave?!" Reggie yelled.

"… it's not about that."

"That's sure as hell what it sounds like!"

"Well, it's obviously _bothering_ you that I might leave!"

The retort made Reggie pause. "It doesn't mean I want _that_!" he cried indignantly, "I didn't want it before! And I DIDN'T enjoy it!"

"You don't moan like a slut if you don't enjoy it!" Bud barked out, losing his cool for a moment in the force of the emotion.

Despite the door separating them, Bud could somehow clearly see the hurt look the mutant mallard produced in response, and it was enough to make him immediately regret it.

"Reggie please, I-I.. I didn't mean that. I'm just.. I'm going a little crazy here!"

"You fucking RAPED me Bud! You expect me just to forget about that?!" Reggie screamed, choosing to completely ignore the excuse the other tried to produce.

It hurt to actually hear the word, and Bud felt very much as though it had just physically stabbed him in the heart. For a moment he was completely lost for words, opening and closing his mouth several times before the appendage finally managed to let forth a response. "I fucked up Reggie," he choked, the tears flooding into his voice, "I fucked up so bad."

It was all he could say before the sobbing began, the drummer completely breaking down under the emotional strain. The devastated cries were a shock. Reggie was suddenly unsure what to do. He could barely even control himself enough to keep breathing as the other mutant outside finally composed himself enough to continue.

"Please forgive me," Bud whimpered, " _Please_ …. I lo- … I-I… I…" he sighed heavily, leaning his forehead against the door. "I love you," he finished softly, the gentle breath of his words unable to disguise the true depth of the feeling behind them.

He was barely able to believe that he'd just said it.

"Well, you have a funny way of showing it!" Reggie yelled in reply, unable to keep the slight anguish from his voice at the other's admission—and the internal voice telling him he quite probably felt the same.

The angry response made Bud hang his head in shame. "..I can't be around you and not …care about you Reggie," he finally said, resisting the desire to say the word love again: he knew it would only make Reggie more resistant. "So if you don't want me to care about you….. then all I can do is leave you."

The soft statement infuriated Reggie, suddenly filling his entire being with tangible rage. His body finally stirred, the lanky frame moving abruptly to stand so he could remove the shield blocking him from the other mutant. Bud swept back in shock at the action, eyes widened at the now livid bird.

"And you expect me to just not FEEL anything?!" Reggie roared, advancing slightly on the cringing mongrel, "Like I'd just be okay with you showing up, fucking around with my emotions and then ditching me?!"

Bud was powerless under the pained and angry stare.

"I fucking trusted you!" Reggie continued, voice cracking under the weight of the sorrow that was quickly engulfing his anger.

It was the first time he had admitted it out loud.

The confession left Reggie completely incapable of keeping his grief at bay, his entire form slumping in defeat. "You're such an asshole," he finished with a whimper, the tears threatening to come forth as he rubbed his own arms in an attempt at self-comfort.

"I'm sorry. I didn't.. I didn't mean to make you cry," Bud responded gently, reaching out to wipe the tears before they even fell.

"I'm not crying!" Reggie snapped defensively, moving away from the outstretched hand.

Technically it was true, but he may just as well have been sobbing; it was what he wanted to do. His body just refused to let him.

Bud took a chance and started to once again flow closer to the plant duck. Reggie shook slightly at the advance but made no indication that he would move away as watery limbs reached down ever so gently to take his leafy fingers in their grip.

"I love you Reggie," Bud said quietly, his soft voice almost seeming to reach into the quivering bird's very soul, trying to coax some long hidden spark of life back from the darkness that had engulfed it.

"Well stop!" Reggie retorted, eyes already beginning to water once again, "… I don't want you to," he finished quietly, the waver in his voice betraying his true feelings as his body shook and his fingers resisted returning the hold clutching them gently.

Bud slipped closer at the action, pressing a wet finger gently beneath Reggie's chin so he could lift the lone indigo eye to meet his gaze. "Yes you do," he whispered, pulling the other gently into an unannounced hug.

Reggie didn't return the embrace but he didn't resist either. Bud could feel the leafy hands on his chest curling ever so gently against his fluid form in a timid but reassuring sign that he truly wanted the affection. Bud gripped the slim body tighter, completely taken over by the relief of the other man allowing his wet arms to hold him. He buried his nose in the soft skin of Reggie's neck, almost able to smell the summer fresh scent of the floral mallard. Reggie didn't hug him back, but he also didn't try to resist. He just kept his leaves pressed to the softly flowing water, the slight stiffness in his body slowly relaxing as he gave in to the soothing current. He had missed the contact.

Reggie found it very difficult to look the other mutant in the eye once he had pulled away, a soft blush creeping across his face when he finally did force his gaze to focus on the cerulean pools that were still so enthralling to him. Bud was completely overwhelmed by the sight, suddenly pressing his flowing muzzle gently but urgently against Reggie's bill.

The shocked plant duck recoiled at the action, pushing himself away slightly in an attempt to increase the space between them. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Reggie griped, wiping at the tingling moisture clinging to his beak.

The look Bud offered in response clearly said that he was shocked at being so forcefully pushed away. "I thought you wanted me to stay," he said quizzically.

"So?!" Reggie retorted, "That is _not_ permission to fuck me!"

"But you do care about me." It wasn't a question.

"That's totally different!" Reggie sputtered.

"No. It's not."

Reggie swallowed thickly at the response, trying to ignore the incessant voice of reason that told him it was true and he knew it.

"I know what I did was wrong, but you…" Bud paused for a moment as though afraid to continue, "You can't tell me you didn't feel what I felt," he finished softly.

Reggie's blush grew at the comment, unsure look taking over his face as he stared pitifully at the slowly approaching drummer. For the first time Bud could clearly read the desire in Reggie's gaze: the need to love and be loved.

"If you want my affection… this is what you get," Bud continued gently.

"And what if I don't?" Reggie whispered almost inaudibly in reply, the tone of his voice adding little validity to the question.

"Then I can't be near you. I can't not love you." Bud sighed deeply before continuing. "And I obviously can't control myself around you…. I couldn't bear it if I hurt you again."

The genuine nature of the statement was not lost on Reggie. He swallowed thickly at the feelings assaulting him. No matter how hard his deeply engrained need to protect himself screamed at him to just turn the other away and run he couldn't keep the other overwhelming emotions stirring inside him at bay. He didn't want Bud to leave. In fact, the thought terrified him. Whether he wanted to admit it or not there was an uncontrollable desire to have the other man near him, to touch him and be comforted by him… maybe more. Reggie’s color deepened at the notion.

He was still somewhat apprehensive as Bud flowed closer but he made no attempt to move away again, silently accepting that the only way to keep the oddly captivating mutant from slipping away from him completely was to give in to what they both truly wanted. That didn't mean he wasn't nervous about it.

Bud coaxed him gently backwards until his path was blocked by the forgotten bed, shifting without a word to help the timid mallard lay back against the surprisingly soft mattress. Reggie's heart pounded as the realization of what he was about to let the other do sunk in. Although the anxious duck currently supported only a half gaze, it was enough to make Bud pause and regard him with tender eyes. The expression told Reggie all he needed to know: Bud would stop if he told him to. That though alone made him finally give in with a shaky sigh, blush returning with a vengeance as the other mutant leaned close with obvious intentions. This time, Reggie allowed it to happen.

The kiss was passionate and filled with an excess of sensation; a harsh contradiction to the previous feeling of fear and disgust that had been elicited by the excruciating nature of the first liquid osculation Reggie had received. He couldn't stop his eyes from slipping shut as he gave into the erotic caresses of the swirling, watery appendage currently slipping around inside his bill. It was a somewhat odd feeling: his beak pressing past the watery barrier slightly before the resistance of Bud's form pressed back. It was strange but hardly unpleasant, much like the sensation of touching him in general. Reggie's hands moved tentatively to grip at the drummer's wet dreadlocks. Bud made a conscious effort to make the hair-like streams tangible enough for the other to clutch. The pressure of the flowing water was strangely arousing, causing Reggie to shudder at the cooling streams and jerk his hands suddenly away from the overpowering feeling. He didn't realize that the intricate maze of veins in the delicate leaves made them an unusual erogenous zone for him.

Bud gripped him tighter at the reaction, holding him close in an attempt to ease his nerves. He didn't miss a beat when the uneasy feeling caused by the fluid follicles made Reggie pull away for air, slipping his watery tongue down the panting mallard's smooth chest and torso as his hands ran parallel along his sides. He stopped when he reached the spot where the green skin met the course bark of his lower half to swipe his tongue along the junction. The difference in sensation the water provided between the two portions of his body made Reggie tremble with poorly disguised desire, his legs twitching slightly as Bud stroked his watery hands gently along them. The distracted canine just barely caught sight of the shuddering bassist clamping a hand over his bill to quiet the soft sounds it was threatening to let forth. The action compelled Bud to move from his position, slipping his tongue up the shuddering abdomen as he went.

Fluid danced along tender green flesh as Bud flowed from his current location and slipped beneath the quivering duck, forcing Reggie's body into a different position as he reformed his own liquid frame. The still nervous mallard sighed at the welcomed shift as Bud moved him onto his right side. It kept the injured half of his body off the bed and allowed him not to have to look at his bedmate while blushing so pathetically at the mere thought of allowing the water dog to once again fill his body with liquid sex.

Bud buried his face in Reggie's neck as he stopped to appreciate the new position. His hands quickly began to roam, truly exploring his lover's body for the first time. Reggie couldn’t help but be amazed at the way the deft, fluid fingers seemed to know exactly where his sensitive spots were. HE didn't even know where they were. It was a stark contrast to the previous experience. Despite Bud's slightly needy attitude, the affectionate nature of his actions was more than enough to assure the still uncertain duck that he really was trying to make up for last time. Reggie wasn't sure why the thought made him so much hotter. He was almost sure the other was intentionally raising his water temperature just to make his body burn. His face flushed and his bill slipped open slightly as his yearning to be touched grew. His desperation displayed clearly on his face: his customary mask suddenly stripped away to bear the truth of what lay beneath. Bud could easily see the rise in Reggie's need. The diligent canine did his best to avoid doing anything that would aggravate the still heavily bandaged areas of Reggie's body as he curled around him slightly. Through the dim light in the room, he could see the soft blush reforming on his face, an unspoken assurance that the other was enjoying his actions despite his tightly clenched eyelids and nervous gasping. The trembling bird tried his best to keep back the soft groans that threatened to fall from his mouth: unable to let go of his shame from moaning the previous time.

He sunk his teeth into the inside of his beak to keep the telltale sounds at bay; it didn't take long for the diluted taste of blood to fill his mouth. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't silence his impassioned pants forever. His bill parted slightly in silent cries of desire, the whimpers of pleasure held back only by sheer force of will. The desperate attempts at silence did not go unnoticed by his bedmate. The fluid drummer was starting to grow somewhat aggravated at the other's frantic attempts to remain quiet. He wanted to hear the mallard moan so badly, to hear him call his name in the throes of passion.

How many times had he heard it in his fantasies?

"I'm not forcing you this time," he whispered gently, wet hands never stopping their sensual stroking.

Reggie huffed in slight annoyance at this, trying his best to keep the aroused edge from his voice. "No, just blackmailing me," he replied, the slight gasp and squirm that followed the statement betraying the true extent of his excitement.

It was a poor way to describe the ultimatum Bud had given him, but it was the best he could come up with at the moment.

Bud chuckled softly, smile spreading across his face as his seductive actions became more determined. "Only because you seem to need an excuse."

Despite the complaints, Bud was all too aware of the amount of trust it actually took for Reggie to allow the intimate touches. The mallard knew all too well that if he asked the drummer to stop, he would. He was _letting_ him continue.

Reggie swallowed harshly at the remark. He knew Bud was just trying to lighten the mood, but he suddenly found himself trying very hard to convince his sex-hazed brain that the observation was less than accurate. The thoughts slipped away as another gasp was torn from his mouth, bill falling open once again beneath the force of his growing lust.

A wet hand trailed beneath the now parted beak, stroking along Reggie's neck and chest in a surprisingly suggestive manner as its lookalike trailed to a somewhat more devious destination, gripping at his crotch and pulling his rear closer. The practically withering mutant's resolve finally gave way at the surge of water that found its way between his legs as Bud humped him from behind. The shaky moan that forced its way from his mouth was music to his companion's ears. Bud couldn't hold back the satisfied smile that graced his face at the soft but still stunning sound, groaning softly in pleasure at the noise.

Reggie finally couldn't fight against his own desire anymore, some of his emotional wall crumbling as he allowed his responsive flesh to pull on the water in a desperate attempt to fill himself with the stimulating liquid. He was somewhat embarrassed about it. The last time his body had done it on its own, driven mad with the arousing sensations Bud had forced upon him; this time he was doing it intentionally. His face flushed deeply at the realization. Suddenly he felt almost afraid to keep drinking the water in such a needy manner.

Bud could see the struggle very clearly. He hugged the nervous drake gently in an attempt to assure him it was okay. It was unclear whether the embrace had helped or not. His hand slipped fluidly down Reggie's panting chest to join its preoccupied twin in its erotic ministrations as he moved his muzzle close to his wanting lover's face.

"Let me hear that gorgeous voice Reggie," he whispered.

Reggie shifted, head jerking slightly to the side as though to display refusal. His moans were still stubbornly held back despite the way he forced his roots into the inviting current the other was pressing against his lower half in a wordless and unintentional plea for more. Bud was more than capable of recognizing the silent request. The woody appendages were obviously one of the plant-duck's more sensitive areas.

Bud pulled him closer, nearly submerging him completely within his churning water as the pull on his fluid increased and his own desire grew. He shifted his head over Reggie's soft petals as he tried to alter their position further. The simple move elicited an unexpected reaction from the floral duck in his arms, causing him to jolt away slightly and sending a round of severe shudders through his body. For a moment Bud was afraid he had hurt him. A cerulean eye cocked inquisitively at the other as he tried to discern what had caused the harsh quivers. An ever so slight tremble of movement at the corner of his vision coaxed Bud's gaze to the gently swaying anthers protruding from Reggie's soft nest of hair. Through the darkness he could see the stalks twitching slightly, almost moving towards him as though to ask for more of the pleasing contact. Bud wasn't even sure if Reggie noticed it. He swiped his fluid tongue inquisitively along one of the soft purple organs. Almost immediately he could feel the result in his still hesitant companion, the erogenous effect of his tender licking sending obvious trembles along Reggie's spine and enticing a delightful round of uninhibited moans from his bill.

"Oooh, you like that huh?" Bud whispered affectionately into the shuddering mallard's ear.

He received a soft, but still blatantly aroused, groan in reply, Reggie's body quivering harder as he stroked his fingers lightly along another of the thin filaments.

Bud just had to grin at the response. "Mm, let's do more of that then," he purred gently, pulling another of the delightfully responsive stamens into his flowing fingers.

The watery canine moaned softly at the quiet sounds of pleasure that the continued stroking elicited. An enamored smile slipped across his face when Reggie tilted his head back in a silent plea for more of the gentle caresses. Bud was more than happy to comply. A thoroughly pleased smile lit up his face as he moved the watery muzzle close to one of the responsive gametes, sucking it carefully into his mouth.

Reggie was completely incapable of controlling the sounds that followed, his body giving a rough jerk as the sensitive sphere disappeared past watery lips. Bud immediately released the anther as the reaction became more severe, Reggie's body beginning to spasm as he whined and clutched desperately at the hand still pressed to his groin. The action brought Bud's eyes immediately to the bark-covered hips, jaw dropping uncouthly as an unexpected change began to take place. The shuddering mallard whimpered loudly as the rough exterior split to let forth the softer and slightly moist appendage, his body reacting instinctively to the situation in the best way it could comprehend. Reggie's face filled with dread as he forced himself to look down, pulling Bud's arm away from his crotch so he could inspect it. The newly added root was a strange contradiction to the rest of his rough lower half. It was smooth and pale, like a fledgling branch with the bark peeled away: tender and exposed. He greeted the sight with a horrified expression, face flushing so deeply it was practically black.

Bud blinked stupidly at the phallic-like stick. "Is that?"

"NO!" Was the horrified reply.

"Sure as hell looks like it," Bud muttered.

He couldn't resist the chance to give Reggie a mischievous grin, but it faded quickly when the other man began to look more uncomfortable, replacing with a reassuring smile. Bud nuzzled Reggie's cheek to ease his tense sifting. He knew how to take his mind off the discomfort.

 _Let's see how sensitive your little friend is._ He thought impishly.

Flowing fingers grasped the new limb, slipping up and down along the already swelling flesh in tantalizing streams. Reggie's entire body trembled under the stimulation. Bud couldn't help licking his lips at the delightful response, eyes glued to where he was stroking.

Reggie narrowed his eye irately at the action, suddenly annoyed at the triumphant look. "Do you _have_ to stare at it so much?" he grumbled, the sentence coming out as more of an embarrassed whimper than an angry question.

The attempt at agitation didn't stop the needy groan that followed. A displeased look crossed Reggie's face at the poorly timed display of his sexual arousal.

Bud frowned at the expression. "Well, do _you_ have to look so unhappy about it?" he retorted, still teasing at the arboreal organ between Reggie's legs. He huffed slightly in irritation when he received no response. "You can't tell me it doesn't feel good," Bud continued.

"No it doesn't!" Reggie gasped.

A somewhat playful grin met the telltale sound of Reggie's arousal-laden voice. Reggie glared embarrassedly at the expression. Bud quickly let the look ease away as he took in the sight of the other staring at him, replacing with a sincere smile.

" _What_?" Reggie grumbled when the loving grin only made his blush grow.

"I'm- heh… I'm just happy," Bud replied simply, eyes slipping closed as his smile beamed.

The answer took Reggie by surprise. He didn't even have a chance to react before the watery mammal behind him was shifting into a different position, coaxing him to lie on his back once again as the sudden need to hold his partner properly overcame him. He positioned himself between Reggie's legs, moving the trembling appendages so that one rested on either side of his body as he moved his hands to Reggie's slender waist. The plant-duck blushed profusely as his hips were pulled higher into Bud's wet lap, the dog dragging him down slightly on the mattress so he could press closer to the sensitive spot in Reggie groin. The blushing mallard shuddered at the pleasing sensations as Bud bent his body over the aching proof of his desire, the woody member being engulfed in the swirling current of the drummer's torso as he did so.

Reggie pressed curled fingers desperately to the watery barrier now resting close to his chest, panting softly into the churning waters as wet fingers began to stroke his length once more. Although the silky appendage was a delight for the water-dog, it wasn't what he was really concentrating on at the moment. There was a tingling surge of euphoria building in his chest that was very difficult to ignore and it was quickly making him tremble under the force of the foreign feeling. His water sunk deep enough into the soft skin of Reggie's ribcage for him to feel the muted rhythm of the mallard's racing heart, his water pressing against the fast-paced beat as it sent shudders along his body. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. Every new emotion evoked by their actions was a novel journey to him, every new touch a different realm of sensation. No normal being could take in his water the way Reggie did: it was a joining of bodies so intimate and unique that he knew it was nothing he could replicate even if he tried for a million years. The look in Reggie's eyes clearly said he felt the same, but Bud didn't expect the whispered admission of his feelings that followed.

" _Buddy_."

It was barely an uneasy whimper— the soft statement almost seeming to beg Bud for some kind of guidance. If the dog hadn't seen Reggie's bill move he would have never been sure he said it at all. A trembling hand suddenly lifted, unsure what exactly to do. Bud immediately grabbed the leafy appendage, tenderly guiding it behind him in an attempt to ease Reggie's subconscious desire to cling to his lover. The quivering mallard allowed the placement for only a moment, gripping at Bud's back tentatively before his embarrassment set in once again and he forced the hand to fall back to the sheets beneath him. Bud pouted slightly but didn't try to urge Reggie to repeat the action. Instead, he settled for lacing his own watery digits between the fingers clinging to the thin blanket, coaxing the hand up so that it rested beside Reggie's head, their palms pressed together and fingers intertwined. Tightly clenched eyes opened hesitantly at the action, Reggie finally meeting the watery blue orbs staring back at him. A soft gulp sounded into the otherwise silent room as Reggie finally allowed himself to give in a little. His eyes slipped closed again to avoid the loving gaze as he permitted his trembling digits to close slowly around the comforting liquid nestled between them.

Such a simple but intimate act.

It wasn't technically the first time Bud had held his hand, but it was the first time Reggie had held his back. It suddenly occurred to him that the moody bassist had probably never really held _anyone's_ hand before—at least not in a loving sort of way. The expression on Reggie's face made it obvious.

Bud dropped his head down lower at the unsure look his partner conjured, rubbing his nose tenderly against Reggie's lightly trembling beak. His watery heart skipped a beat when the affectionate action made the floral mutant grip his hand tighter. The gentle kiss that followed forced Reggie to release the hold his teeth suddenly had on his lower bill, the tender caress of watery lips somehow easing the heat in his cheeks. Bud buried his face in the other's neck when the Reggie finally pulled away, unable to resist the faint sent of flowery avian he was treated to every time he did it. He once again began to stroke at Reggie's erection, his other hand never leaving its tender embrace with the leafy digits still clinging desperately to him.

Reggie whined in need, squirming desperately as the continued stroking began to build a torturously enjoyable pressure in his nethers. Although he had felt the sensation before, it wasn't exactly something he was overly accustomed to, and in his altered state it was even more of an overwhelming experience for the repressed mallard. It was overwhelming for Bud in a somewhat different way. He had never been with anyone as responsive or inexperienced as Reggie and he found he was quickly losing himself in the encounter. Every needy cry rang like a blissful melody in his head, stirring within him and spurring him on. He suddenly couldn't help the thrusting. Reggie found he actually rather liked the motion under the altered situation. He couldn't deny having the primitive urge to do the same thing. He practically ripped his leafy hand from Bud's grip as the building pleasure finally forced his shyness away and allowed him to cling to the man above him, hips jerking slightly to meet the fluid motion of the drummer's lower half as he wrapped his legs around Bud’s dripping torso.

Bud shuddered as Reggie began to meet his thrusts, the tight hold the whimpering mallard now had on him only serving to increase his desire for more. He was starting to lose his control again. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed to keep his lust-drunk mind focused solely on the desire of the withering beauty in his arms. The last thing he wanted was to make Reggie nervous in any way. Sex already made him nervous. He had to be sure he could still stop if Reggie wanted him to—although that was becoming increasingly unlikely. He was almost relieved when Reggie's body began to quiver more forcefully: a sure sign he was nearing his limit. Bud only hope the reaction truly meant he wouldn't be asked to end things now. The thought quickly prompted a response from Bud's body, his animal instinct finally taking over completely as the fluid canine gave a final forceful surge of his water before it all became too much for Reggie to handle. His back arched excessively much as it had done the first time, the convulsing mallard trying desperately to continue clinging to Bud as his body contorted. His penis swelled under the stress, a small stream of milky sap soon bursting from the tip of the hard root as the force of the climax overtook him. The cry Reggie let out lasted far longer than the physical evidence of his release, his body shuddering in orgasmic waves as Bud clutched him close.

The water-dog shuddered at the feeling that filled him as Reggie came. The torturous warmth had returned once again, swirling within him and making his entire body tingle with arousing heat just as it had the first time. He tried his best not to let his form fade but the sensations quickly became too much, his body falling into a lightly convulsing puddle. He reformed as quickly as his exhausted state would allow, pulling his body up once again so he could regard the condition of the mallard beneath him.

A slightly disheveled and heavily panting Reggie met his gaze. Sweat mingled with the water dripping down his quivering chest, painting an inexplicably beautiful (and disturbingly arousing) sight for the liquid canine. Reggie could feel the inquisitive look bearing into him, but for a long moment he refused to break the tantalizing afterglow by daring to meet the watery stare. When he finally did open his eye to take in the sight of the drummer above him, it was quickly obvious how tired the exertion had left him. He was unable to even offer the dog some kind of indication that he was okay before he began to slip into an exhausted sleep. Bud couldn't help but smile at the now quietly resting duck, pressing his forehead gently to the bassist's sweat-slicked brow. He soon curled up next to Reggie, pulling the other close as he dared to rest with him for a while.

When Reggie woke a few hours later Bud was no longer sharing the mattress with him, content instead to sit beside the bird and observe him as he pulled himself back into the realm of consciousness. He knew Reggie would have been embarrassed to wake up in bed with him. He had been forced to pull himself from the embrace anyway in order to inform the others that their patient was now awake and doing remarkably better.

Bud wasn't quite sure if him not being quite so close to the fidgety avian helped or not. The other still looked painfully uncomfortable, immediately turning his face away from the wet dog as he lifted his still aching body back into a sitting position. Although he was still hurting, he couldn't help but notice that the heavy dose of Bud's water had seemed to greatly aid in his healing process. A soft green tint began to grow in his cheeks at the thought. Bud's face fell at the displeased expression Reggie produced in response to the annoying flush of color. It wasn't like he had expected the other to suddenly confess his love or anything, but he had hoped he would at least be a bit more open to his company now.

A curt knock to the door saved either of them from having to break the heavy silence, the short mallard outside not waiting for approval before entering the room. Reggie's brow lifted quizzically at the sight of the other bird. He actually looked worse than the injured mutant at that point. His only eye was sunken in and displaying a palpable amount of overexertion: it was obvious he was ignoring a large amount of pain.

Drake blinked stupidly, staring back and forth uncomfortably between the two as the obvious tension in the room registered. "Uhh.. sorry for the interruption.." he said awkwardly, "but we just found this outside one of the tunnel entrances."

Bud cocked an eye at the flat box he was holding, moving forward to collect the item.

"I figured this would make more sense to you two," Drake finished, handing the parcel along with a small note over to Bud. He didn't wait for a response before leaving the room. He was obviously intruding at a time he shouldn't.

A watery brow lifted as Bud stared at the short note in his hand. Scrawled across the small piece of paper in a very familiar—and somewhat girly— script was a brief and obscure explanation of the package:

_Still no points for fashion sense_

— _J_

Bud couldn't resist chuckling slightly at the little heart that was drawn next to the single letter signature. _You're such a softie Jack._ He mused to himself. The short letter was more than enough to explain what was in the box even before the drummer opened its white lid. The smile slipped across Bud's face of its own accord as he took in the sight of the black coat folded neatly in the package's confines.

Reggie had clearly seen it too. His entire body winced as he tried to move, the look of anguish very obvious in his expression as he put a hand to his suffering torso. "Give it back Bud," he managed to choke out painfully.

Watery limbs extended slightly as though the water dog was about to do just that, but they soon stopped as a thought struck their owner. He suddenly couldn't stop thinking about a certain feverish moment when he had ceased to be Bud in the other mutant’s eyes: transformed into a long lost and mysterious friend.

Reggie's distress grew exponentially at the silent refusal. "Give it back goddamnit!" he yelled with poorly disguised urgency, grimacing once again as he tried to move from the bed.

Bud didn't reply right away, hesitating as he regarded the uneasy plant-duck in front of him. "First… tell me why it's so important to you," he finally said.

Reggie's whole body tensed in anger at the quiet demand. "Why the fuck do you care?!" he yelled.

Bud paused to ponder this for a moment. "I….I just do."

Reggie immediately clenched his teeth against the story that was trying to force its way from his mouth. He'd never told anyone why that particular garment was so important to him and he suddenly found the words wanting more than anything to be heard, trying desperately to tear free from behind the wall he had built up around himself. But there was no way he could allow that.

A defeated aura suddenly engulfed his entire being as he slumped. If that was what it took to get the coat back, Reggie simply didn't have the courage to do it. Bud sighed heavily as this reality sunk in. He couldn't allow the other man to suffer like that. He flowed forward gently, finally holding the coat out to its rightful owner. Reggie let out a choked sob at the sight of it. Jack had somehow managed to remove the disgusting green stains from the now purified white interior of the mended garment. The repair work was hardly as invisible as the previous job the skilled rhythmist had done, but the stitching was still incredible given the state the beloved item was in when Reggie had last seen it making it the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid his eyes on. He took the trench coat slowly, fingers trembling as he reached. Reggie hugged the scarred garment to his chest as he curled his body around it, quivering as he buried his face in the black fabric. It was painfully obvious how badly he wanted to cry.

Bud sighed heavily at the sight. There was only one thing he could think of to do that might get the bassist to tell the story he so obviously wanted to get off his chest. "He uses it to control me," he whispered, eyes downcast and form slumping slightly.

The comment actually managed to tear Reggie's thoughts from the garment clenched in his leafy hands, coaxing his confused eyes over to the watery mutant. "What?" he choked, genuinely confused by the random statement.

Bud forced his fluid eyes to lift. "You once asked me why I hate this collar so much," he said, voice uncharacteristically meek.

Reggie found his eyes glued to where fluid fingers were gripping at the unwanted symbol of the dog's servitude. He was shocked at the information but more so at the divulging of it. Bud was truly trying to earn his trust again. This was very difficult for him and it showed. The now curious mallard remained silent, allowing the other man to continue uninterrupted.

Bud sighed shakily as he gathered his nerves to continue. "He.. he has some way of… _hurting_ me with it," he continued, the end of the sentence coming out as a dismayed whimpered.

"Why don't you just take it off?" Reggie finally managed to question through his shock.

Bud’s form bristled at the question, frustration suddenly filling his watery being. "If I could take it off don't you think I WOULD have by now?!" he screamed, unable to control his distress over the issue.

He was suddenly yanking insanely at the strip of leather and metal encircling his neck, using every ounce of his power to try and force the device from his watery form. The collar seemed to defy all reason as it clung to his liquid, staying attached to him even thought he had managed to pull it almost completely free of where his neck normally was. Despite the force he exerted, he was barely able to move it; it was determined to keep its hold over him.

"He found some way of keeping the FUCKING thing attached to me!" he cried, his voice cracking beneath the force of his sorrow.

With a final baring of his teeth and a pitiful sob, the scene ended, Bud's form slouching once again as both hands slipped away from the still firmly attached collar.

"I sure as hell didn't sign up for this shit when I joined this freak show," he finally continued, his voice taking on a somewhat irritated quality. "I mean, how the hell was I supposed to know that crazy bastard was ingenious enough to find a way to use my damn _hydrogen bonding_ to keep a torture device attached to my fucking neck?!"

Reggie couldn't hold back the slight snort he let out at the comment. Negaduck's ingenuity _was_ one of the worst things about him. The bassist's distracted gaze was brought back to the dripping dog as the slight shifting of his blue form glided along the edge of his vision. He couldn't help but feel bad for the other as he took in the sight of him sitting across the room with such a look of defeat and depression overcoming him. He hadn't known Negaduck had been hurting the water dog. He hadn't known it was even _possible_ , but it was suddenly clear that the singer had been hurting him all because of Reggie himself: because Bud had dared to extend his friendship and love to the brooding bassist. For the first time since Bud had betrayed him, Reggie truly accepted that he wanted to trust him again. He swallowed thickly around the slightly ill feeling in his throat as he prepared for what he was about to do. He didn't say a word as he searched within the confines of his coat to produce the small item.

Bud cocked an inquisitive brow at him as he pulled what appeared to be a slightly crinkled and torn photo into his leafy hands, the aged picture protected behind a makeshift plastic barrier. It was obvious that he was struggling with the decision to show the precious item, but he slowly held it out with trembling fingers; he was hesitant, but he was obviously willing to at least try and bridge the rift that had been torn between them.

Bud slid slowly from his perch, almost hesitant to approach. He was somewhat afraid Reggie might change his mind if he got too close. He didn't take the picture for fear of forcing it to endure more damage than it already had despite its thin, waterproof covering, but Reggie preferred not to have to hand it over anyway. Watery locks slid to the side as Bud tipped his head, investigating the photo curiously. Within the paper borders, two young boys stood trapped in time. The drummer gazed curiously at the beaming red-head holding the camera up so he could force his moody companion into a staged memory. Green eyes gleamed above the smile while faint freckles dotted its edges. One of the young mallard's arms was stretched out while the other was wrapped around a younger but still slightly sulking Reggie.

There were several things about the picture that caught Bud off guard, but nothing compared to the sight of a familiar black coat draped around the slightly older boy's frame. The image confirmed what the drummer had subconsciously suspected since he found out about the enigmatic friend: the coat Reggie so cherished was all he had left of him. Trembling leaves pulled the photo back, Reggie staring emotionally at the picture he seldom had the courage to even glance at.

"He…" Reggie choked slightly at the first word as he tried to compose himself enough to offer an explanation. "He was my best friend," he finally managed to whisper, the tears in his voice heart-wrenchingly audible. "He was my only friend….my only family." He paused a moment to regard the happy face of his long dead companion. "Spike." A soft snort broke the brief silence the name had evoked. "Of course that wasn't _really_ his name.. but then…. he never would tell me his real name."

The story trailed off once again as Reggie's eyes started to water and his expression turned to a horrid mixture of pain, anger and utter misery.

"He was murdered for no fucking reason!" he suddenly yelled, photo quivering in his now shaking hands. "All they wanted was our money but they thought I was holding out on them! He was just trying to protect me." Dry sobs wracked Reggie's body, tears still refusing to fall as his breaths came out in choked pants. "They killed my best friend for 20 dollars and a fucking pack of cigarettes!" he wailed, pulling his knees to his heaving chest and clenching his eyes shut as his body curled around the coat. "He died in my arms," he whimpered into the cherished garment.

Only Reggie's soft sniffling broke the silence that followed the sorrow-filled sentence. Bud was powerless to do anything at first, mouth slightly agape and expression clearly displaying his pain at the other's suffering. He watched as a long-held dam finally broke inside the bassist and a wave of pent up emotion washed over him. Reggie's eyes watered at the sudden break down that he was incapable of controlling. A number of the tears finally slipped down his cheeks as he held the tattered fabric closer, some of the stray drops slipping free from beneath the bandage protecting his injured eye.

Bud's heart sank at the miserable expression and pathetic whimpers. It was easily the most transparent display of feeling that the dog had yet seen him exhibit. He was soon sobbing, his body allowing him to cry for the first time since he'd lost his friend. The first time in over six years. There was nothing that Bud could think of to say. He finally flowed closer to the mallard, slipping an arm carefully around the severely shaking bassist. He noticed Reggie didn't flinch. Just as he'd done before, he made no move to resist or encourage; he simply accepted the comfort, closing his eyes as his trembling gradually slowed and his hysterical sobs turned into a steady stream of silent tears.

Bud wasn't sure when exactly it happened but he was soon holding a sleeping Reggie to his chest, stroking his fingers through the slumbering mallard's silken hair: an action he found he couldn't resist with the other unaware of it. It felt like hours before he finally forced himself to slip from the embrace, laying the emotionally and physically exhausted bird gently back into the comfort of the bed. Tender hands pulled the black coat from Reggie's weakening grip, slipping the garment from leafy hands so that he could lay it over the sleeping form. For hours he sat there just watching as the other slept, keeping close watch over his love. Even though they were buried beneath a mile of dirt, Reggie could almost feel the sun beginning to rise outside. He shifted in his sleep, a soft sound of longing for a taste of its light slipping from his still closed bill. Bud finally stood to leave as the other began to stir, suddenly desperate not to be there when he woke. It would just make it harder to do what he had to. He couldn't fight the need to lay a gentle kiss on Reggie's forehead before he left. Something seemed to warn him it would be the last chance he'd get.

It was literally painful for Bud to force himself from the room, resting his back against the door as he closed it behind him. For an excruciatingly long moment he just stood there, eyes clenched shut and heart trying to process all the emotions weighing down on him. The sight that greeted him when he finally did lift the weary lids was not particularly what he wanted to see. The single eye held an urgency that was impossible to ignore, and Bud did a poor job of holding back the displeased sound that escaped him at the sight of the short mallard. Even if they were on the same side it didn't change the fact that Bud didn't much care for the vertically challenged loudmouth.

"We need to talk," Drake stated simply, his seriousness quite evident in his tone.

"Yeah, about what?" Bud retorted gruffly.

"You can't stay here anymore."

The response was brief and to the point. Just what Bud had come to expect from the other man. "Says who?" he growled, more irritated the timing of Drake's intrusion than his demand. He knew it would be coming soon.

The masked mallard took a moment to respond, considering his answer carefully as he observed the bubbling mutant. "As much as I've _appreciated_ the fact that you've been here to play nursemaid… you and I both know that every second you stay here you're putting him in more danger."

Bud didn't reply. They both already knew he was aware of it.

"You're putting us all in danger," Drake continued. "And I can no longer allow that."

He still received no answer.

It took a moment for Bud to collect his thoughts enough for a reply, the sopping mammal staring blankly at the floor before finally nodding his response.

"There's just one thing I have to do first," he said, not bothering to wait for the masked mallard's approval as he sloshed away.

"And _what_ , pray tell, could you possibly need to do first?" Drake questioned irately, moving quickly to keep up with the wet dog as he moved down the corridor. There was no way he was just going to let the other man turn his back on him in _his_ domain without a better explanation.

"Raid your arsenal," Bud responded simply. "If I'm going down I'm at least gonna take as many of those fuckers down with me as I can," he finished, growling slightly as his anger and need to protect the floral mutant he left behind grew.

"You're going to try and take him on alone?!" Drake questioned as he gaped at the dog who had just made his way into their crude weapons storehouse and was now helping himself to as many devastating explosives as he could fit into the two sashes he was now wearing around his torso.

"Oh, and what would you suggest?" Bud questioned menacingly, pausing his searching only momentarily to turn angry eyes upon the shorter man. "Team up with you?! You and I both know damn well he has _way_ too much control over me for my powers to be of any use to you. At least this way I might be able to take a chunk out of him before I go."

"Tch, it'll just grow back," Drake replied darkly.

"I'm not looking for your approval, alright Mallard?! You got what you want. I'm leaving and there's nothing else to discuss."

With that Bud pushed his way past the slightly glaring avian so he could make his way out of the underground realm. Drake couldn't even bring himself to pursue. He knew the other was right. There was no way for Bud to help them. He'd already done all he could do and that was to save Reggie's life. Outside of that there was no true purpose left the dog wished to fulfill. Only the thought of protecting the only thing that had ever really been precious to him spurred him on.

"Good luck," Drake finally whispered into the empty room.

His gaze narrowed and his face snarled furiously, his anger welling up as a moment of pity for the dog grew within him. More than that, it was a fury at the cowardly mallard who was just now waking, rubbing the sleep from his uninjured eye as he searched the room groggily for the sopping drummer he had expected to find. Reggie could swear his heart had stopped: the organ seemingly suspended in time as the reality of the empty room registered.

Bud had left him.

Somehow Reggie knew it was for good. He snarled into the empty space, fury growing as the thought that Bud had just used him for sex again pushed into his mind. The anger did a poor job of subduing the horrible feeling of sorrow and longing in the pit of his stomach. Reggie barely had time to sit and fume about the other's absence before his solitude was loudly interrupted. He nearly jumped right off the mattress beneath him when the entry to the small room flew open with a bang. He was not prepared to so suddenly be staring down such an obviously furious Drake Mallard.

"You have got to help us NOW!" the shorter duck screamed.

Reggie blinked irately at the demand, anger still clouding his gaze as he stared down the other one-eyed mallard. "I don't take orders from you!" he spat in reply.

"Your precious guard dog is out there risking his life and all you can do is sit here feeling sorry for yourself?!" Drake retorted angrily, "Try being a _man_ for once and HELP HIM!"

Reggie grit his teeth at the response, the action unable to keep his rage fueled enough to stop his body from slouching in despair. His expression fell at the thoughts now assaulting him. "Why should I when he just abandoned me?" he grumbled quietly.

"You really are fucking pathetic, you know that?"

The reply was enough to resurrect some of Reggie's wrath despite the way the question seemed to leave him feeling completely broken. "Who the _hell_ asked you?!" he snapped defensively.

"That dog just _literally_ pulled your ass out of the fire. The least you could do is thank him by trying to return the favor!" Drake yelled, ignoring what Reggie just said almost completely.

"….I'm not convinced he deserves it," the stubborn mutant replied, the slight anger that still remained speaking loudly through the words despite the fact that Drake was barely able to hear them.

"Just like the world doesn't deserve to be saved, right?" Drake responded indignantly.

Reggie had no response for the angry question.

"He fucking _cares_ about you Reggie!" Drake continued, unwilling to cease his struggle to gain the other man’s alliance.

The statement was more than enough to prompt a response from the increasingly agitated mallard. "Then why the hell did he leave?!" Reggie refuted.

"BECAUSE HE HAD TO!"

The force of the furious answer made Reggie swallow thickly as his mind admitted defeat.

"He told you about that collar, didn't he?" Drake queried once he had calmed his rage.

A curt nod was his only response.

"It doesn't just mean he can be controlled. It means he can be tracked."

The shock was evident on Reggie's face as he tried to coerce his weary mind to process this information.

"There are only two places it won't register," Drake continued. "Down here and out in the badlands… Negaduck has known for _years_ that we were in one of those two places, but he was never able to find us." The tirade paused a moment when he noticed Reggie's currently neglected pack of cigarettes. He helped himself to one wordlessly, not bothering to ask permission.

Reggie huffed slightly but decided not to waste any of his strength objecting to the theft.

Drake inhaled deeply from the now lit stick, closing his exhausted eye as the thick smoke eased his migraine slightly. "He knows there's an underground," he finally continued "But he doesn't know that we've dug beneath it, creating our own maze of tunnels far below the deepest recesses of the _original_ underground."

A single blue eye blinked at the information, the facts not quite clicking in Reggie's mind.

"Shouldn't it be pretty obvious that this is where you are?" he questioned in an attempt to ease his confusion. "I mean, you have to escape from him from time to time right? Don't you have to be in the city to do that?"

Drake took a deep hit of the still burning cigarette before replying. "Oh, we have tunnels that stretch out to the badlands too. We've been able to keep him mostly confused up until this point, but he _definitely_ knows were down here now, and it's only a matter of time until we're completely unable to stop him."

A soft noncommittal sound answered the explanation, Reggie still struggling with the questions swirling through his head. "That still doesn't really explain why Bud left. If Negaduck can't track him down here what's the difference?" he questioned.

Drake grunted slightly at the inquiry. "The only reason he can't find that dog down here is because I managed to set up a signal jammer that keeps him from being tracked, and in return for providing a safe harbor for Bud whenever he wants it he's kept his mouth shut about our location. It's allowed us to remain safe for this long, but Negaduck and I are running out of life and soon he'll just start tearing the entire city apart to find us. As soon as he gets close enough my jammer wouldn't be able to block the signal of that collar… him staying here would only make us die faster."

Drake paused a moment to regard the obviously struggling duck in front of him. Reggie had been trying very hard to quell his feelings of longing for the other mutant, but it was becoming increasingly difficult as Drake's explanation failed to provide ample excuse for Reggie not to help Bud.

"Negaduck is going to get desperate," Drake continued when the other offered no response. "And it's going to happen soon…. we don't have much time left.”

"….I still don't see why I should help him."

The quiet and unconvincing retort immediately brought Drake's anger back full force.

"Look, I don't _care_ what he did to PISS you off so badly, you still owe him your life!" he roared, advancing menacingly on the other avian. "And it's obvious you have _some_ kind of feelings for him," he continued with a slight growl, "So, help us! If you won't do it for everyone else.. at _least_ do it for him." Drake's face fell slightly when the plea had no effect. "You're the only chance we've got," he finished, desperation sneaking into his voice.

"Well, you're all fucking _screwed_ then," Reggie finally replied bitterly, forcing an angry yet already forlorn blue stare to face the shorter bird. "I can't help anyone," he finished softly, expression softening and head dropping in an obvious admission of defeat.

Drake glared at the answer, grinding his teeth against the dying cigarette clenched between them. He turned his back to the bassist, form hunching and fists clenched at his sides. An angry eye angled back over his shoulder as he turned his head to address the bassist one more time before departing.

"You're the worst kind of coward."

The softness of the sentence did nothing to lessen its painful impact. Reggie knew it was true. The fact still remained that he didn't want Bud to leave. And the situation did not change that. He was just afraid—just as he'd always been. And he was using his anger to try and cover it up. He curled in on himself at the punishing silence that followed the other duck's retreat, hugging his legs to his chest in a characteristic display of discontentment. He couldn't stop the shaking that resulted from the conversation still replaying over and over in his head. He didn't know what to do.

Drake was still growling softly when he arrived back in the main hall, cursing under his breath at the gutless mallard he had left behind as he made his way swiftly to the observation room. Launchpad was already there, keeping close watch on the collection of TV screens that had been gathered so they could monitor Negaduck and his mindless army. Even he was showing signs of his fatigue.

The look of his obviously furious friend was more than enough to tell Launchpad all he needed to know about the outcome of Drake and Reggie's little chat. "He's not going to help us… is he?" the pilot questioned quietly, his uneasiness at the increasingly dire situation evident in the soft question.

Drake's silence was answer enough.

"…do we really stand a chance without him DW?"

For the first time in a long time Drake allowed the nickname. "I…" he paused considering what he could possibly say, "I don't know LP."

It was a lie. He knew all too well what the answer was. He just didn't want to admit it out loud: afraid the simple utterance of the dreaded truth would bring it down on them that very moment.

"Well.. I guess you won't have to find out," a soft and unsure voice replied from behind them.

Drake turned truly dumbstruck to find Reggie standing there, form slumped and smoldering cigarette clenched in his bill. His mouth hung open for a moment as he took in the weirdly joyous sight of the smoking duck. A genuine and determined grin slowly spread across his face, the smile soon beaming widely at the taller bird. His muscles actually ached at the strain: it had been a long time since he smiled so wide. He didn't even care that it made his already throbbing head hurt more.

A new found optimism filled the elated mallard as he turned back to the turbulent metropolis displayed on the screens before them, eyes narrowed and grin altered into a cockeyed half smile.

" _Now,_ we got ourselves a war."


	13. The War

A chilling shriek split the air: a shrill, collective battle cry that had been repeating over and over for days as the delusional residents of St. Canard searched feverishly through the quickly growing piles of rubble scattered in the streets. They tore with teeth and claws into the ground like rabid animals in an attempt to reach the sanctuary hidden beneath the feeble layer of dirt and gravel. Their fingers bled beneath the force of the rough aggregate, but they continued on as though they were unaware of the blood in their mouths or the mangled flesh on their hands. The scraping of the exposed bones in their fingers and their echoing wails seemed almost loud enough to pierce the many layers of sediment between the deranged hoard and the hidden city beneath, but even if it could it would have gone unheard amidst the chaos below.

The frantic rallying of the underground was oddly ominous. There was something wrong about it, as though some heresy was being committed by their meager act of defiance. Within the furthest depths of the turbid underbelly, a strange stillness hung heavy in the makeshift clinic despite the activity around it.  The abnormal silence was somehow more nerve wracking to Reggie than the turmoil just outside. In the hours since he had agreed to aid Drake and his desperate followers, the one-eyed mallard had insisted Reggie allow the resident M.D. to give him a once over before he dared risk exposing him to the danger above. Reggie shuddered at the thought of allowing the unnervingly absent-minded doctor to examine him while he was actually conscious. The fact that he had been forced to remove the trench coat he had only recently been reunited with only served to put him even more on edge. He gripped the garment in his lap nervously, rubbing at his uninjured arm with his other hand and clicking his toes self-consciously against the metal of the exam table as he continued to wait anxiously. Doctors had always been a source of disquiet for him and the somewhat volatile one currently bustling around him hardly did much to ease his nerves.

It didn’t help that Drake and his fidgeting daughter had decided to stick around and observe. Reggie felt horribly exposed without his coat on –unsettled to have his bandaged body on display in front of even one person let alone three. He was already starting to seriously regret offering his assistance, and the feeling only intensified when the slender bird who he had been desperately trying to ignore reappeared setting several medical instruments on the small table beside her as she muttered irately under her breath.

“Okay, let’s do this,” Bellum huffed not waiting for her patient’s approval before moving to begin the exam.

Reggie flinched at the abrupt invasion into his personal space, instinctively pulling away as she reached out to remove the gauze protecting his still healing flesh.

Bellum sighed impatiently as her continued attempts only made Reggie lean away from her once again, nearly lying flat against the surface beneath him in an irrepressible attempt to keep her from actually touching him. “What is there a _plant_ magnet in my exam table? Sit STILL!” the displeased medic gripped as her patience quickly thinned. “I heard you have a touch of the haphephobia, but god _damn_.”

Drake snorted bitterly at the wholly inadequate observation. “Yeah right, and I’ve got a _touch_ of the split personality disorder,” he grumbled.  

Bellum rolled her eyes at the sardonic attitude as she waited for her uncooperative patient to sit up once again. Reggie growled slightly but decided against any retort for either of the other birds as he begrudgingly forced his body to return to its original position. His slim frame shook uncontrollably at the first hint of contact, quivering pathetically as feathered fingers began to pull the protective layer of gauze away from his still healing wounds. He was silently gratefully that she at least had the decency not to mention his rare phobia again.

“Hmm,” Bellum mumbled curiously as she inspected the newly exposed skin, “There has been a _remarkable_ amount of regeneration since I last saw these wounds. Something made you heal much faster.” She cocked a quizzical brow at him. “What _have_ you been doing?”

Reggie couldn’t control the blush that formed on his face at the underlying perception in her tone and slight smirk on her face.

“Mm, no matter,” Bellum continued with a shrug when she received no clarification beyond Reggie’s change in hue, “Let’s look at that mess you call an eye.”

Reggie didn’t much appreciate the flippant tone, but at least she hadn’t pressed for details of the “remarkable” therapy he had received only hours earlier. The thought did little to ease the nerves that flared once again as the strangely cold feel of her skin contacted his. What kind of doctor had such frigid hands? He shook his head to remove the thought as much as ease the uncomfortable pricking left on his flesh by said icy appendages as the last of the wrappings were eased away. Reggie suddenly found himself apprehensive to even attempt opening his eye. He hadn’t given himself much time to worry about what he might see (or not) once he tried to use the severely damaged organ once again, but he certainly hadn’t been in a hurry to find out. Despite the nagging dread, he slowly began to ease his heavy eyelid open revealing the half shrouded world before him. The once blue iris was still clouded over and slightly bloodshot, but it was the state of the area around it that had the young redhead beside him sticking her tongue out in disgust.

“Duuude, that is _uber_ gross Reggie,” Gosalyn said, moving slightly closer to study the horrid color of the still slightly charred and mangled flesh that had been exposed. “Heh… cool.”

Reggie ignored her entirely as he tried his best to force both eyes to focus on the surly doctor still standing in front of him.

“So,” Bellum said, backing away so she could investigate from afar as the other attempted to use his damaged eye for the first time. “Can you see?”

Reggie blinked briefly at the question, narrowing his eyes as he attempted to coax the impaired organ to function properly. “Kinda,” he answered after a moment of contemplation, “Everything is sorta fuzzy…. and a bit dark.”

In reality, it was much worse than that. The entire left side of his vision was shrouded in a veil of obscurity, the figures that wandered into the haze transforming into shadowy apparitions that almost seemed to sway somewhat due to Reggie’s inability to focus properly. He tried very hard to keep the discomfort off his face at the unsettling reality of his new eye sight but was only marginally successful. It would take a long time to get used to.

“Well, that’s to be expected,” Bellum replied, “But at least you should be able to get enough use of it for it to be of _some_ help in this fight.”

Reggie produced a displeased grimace at the thought; he wasn’t really sure if it was useful or detrimental.

“As long as _he’s_ of some help in this fight I think I’ll be content,” Drake interjected, moving closer to examine the other bird’s state for himself.

“Gee, how touching. I didn’t know you cared so much,” Reggie muttered sarcastically, sliding himself off the exam table and away from the shorter man in an unspoken signal that he’d had enough of being investigated like some medical malformation.

Drake huffed softly at the retort but bit his tongue to prevent any instinctive, degrading comment that might make Reggie reconsider his hesitant offer to help them. A heavy sigh with an audible edge of irritation to it was the only outward sign he showed of the internal monolog. “Look,” he said, clenching his eye shut and rubbing at the bridge of his bill in an attempt to ease the pounding throb in his head that was only growing more intense as the moments passed. “There’s still a lot that needs to be done before we can even set foot outside and not a lot of time to do it. So, if you’re quite content that he’s not gonna fall apart Doctor,” He paused to regard the medic beside him but received only a half convinced shrug in reply, “Then I think we’ve put Reggie and his _haphephobia_ through enough medical torture for one day.”

In spite of Drake’s irritating tone, relief flooded over Reggie at the assurance that he would not have to face anymore of Dr. Bellum’s prodding anytime soon. It was almost enough to take his mind off of the unknown fate he was about to stumble into half blind. The slight peace of mind was short lived, tentative feet forcing Reggie to follow the father and daughter duo back into the dim and chaotic realm they currently called home.

All around them the subterranean residents bustled about in a haphazard mix of disarray, dismay and determination, gathering their feeble stores of ammunition and explosives in a desperate attempt to take back the city where they once lived. Children that couldn’t have been more than teenagers even stepped forward to lay down their lives for a greater cause as they were handed weapons that were in some cases nearly too large to lift. It made Reggie feel very unnerved and hopelessly inadequate to be their savior. He did his best to push the thought from his mind that there was only one person he was really doing this for and the knowledge that if given the choice he would offer up all of them to get that one man back. Blue eyes shifted to the floor to avoid the shadowy specters racing desperately around him. Somehow the fact that due to his impaired vision half of them already looked like ghosts only served to make Reggie feel uncharacteristically guilty. Knowing that many of them truly would be ghosts after all was said and done only made the feeling worse.

Numb from the unnerving thoughts, Reggie barely even noticed that the dreary setting had suddenly changed. The gruff sound of Drake’s boots against the stone floor echoed across the vast space they now occupied, the unexpected beat of rubber on rock finally snapping Reggie from his thoughts and enticing him to investigate his new surroundings. He was surprised to see what looked to be some kind of deep buried cave:  a chasm of dry earth that had been painstakingly modified to accommodate its intended purpose. Much of the stone had obviously been chiseled away to provide somewhat more even surfaces to make the environment more useful. The walls were covered in wires and flickering bulbs to light the massive space while a system of ropes and pulleys snaked along the ground. Reggie was curious as to their purpose, but he didn’t even consider asking once his attention fell on the large craft in the center of the cave. He recognized it immediately as the overpowered helicopter hybrid that he had seen briefly before his first “visit” to the underground. His fleeting concussion and disturbed state of mind had made many of the concert’s details a bit fuzzy, but he could recall Negaduck referring to it as the Thunderquack.

The sound of clinking metal and heavy tools slaving away resonated against the stone walls, growing clearer as they moved further into the cave. As they came closer the soft sound of cursing and a muffled discussion soon joined it. Reggie was hardly surprised to see that Launchpad was the one currently shoulder deep in the vehicle’s engine, but the other half of the conversation was enough to make him pause in his tracks for a moment. Sitting at one of the wooden workbenches in front of the Thunderquack were both Jake and Benny. Reggie was unduly shocked to see them; he had almost managed to forget that he had already been told they were helping the resistance, but despite the fact that he _was_ aware it still seemed wrong to see them outside the dimly lit bar that was their true domain. It somehow felt as if that was the only place they belonged. Benny in particular seemed almost like a different person altogether. The middle aged dog was slumped over the dingy, wooden table, resting an arm upon the dust-covered surface to support his head as he watched Launchpad distantly. He was hardly his usual boisterous self: the now obvious veneer of contentment stripped away to expose the naked grain of the man he truly was. Even when he turned his empty eyes to take in the sight of the familiar living plant behind him it was more like he was looking through the other man rather than at him. Reggie had never seen the canine so sober, or so depressed. It was suddenly very clear why he drank so much; he wanted simply not to feel.

“S’up Reg?” Benny mumbled.

Reggie scoffed softly at the distant question, almost tempted to answer despite the obvious rhetorical nature of the inquiry.

“Why are you two still here?” Drake asked angrily, “I thought you were supposed to be helping the others!”

“They can help themselves,” Jake growled, annoyed at the implied demand for them to leave, “We did all we could do to _assist_ those simpletons. They’re on their own now. We’re just here for the show,” he finished with a gesture to the pilot currently cussing at a rogue wrench that had slipped from its perch and onto his head.

Drake clenched his teeth at the customarily rude response, opening his bill to say something that would have obviously just agitated the situation only to have his ever attentive sidekick intervene in an attempt to keep the two undersized but overly agitated men from literally tearing into each other.

“Look, just help me out will ya Drake?” Launchpad said, pulling his now sore head from the engine he was tending so he would address him more clearly. “If you got time to worry about them you got time to help me.”

Drake grumbled under his breath at his ever peacekeeping sidekick, but accepted that he was right nonetheless. “Yeah, well.. just stay out of my fucking way. BOTH of you,” he snarled, “And no drinking Ben!”

“I haven’t been drinking damnit!” Benny refuted, his form stiffening abruptly as the stab of anger briefly stifled his dour mood. “Got the damn shakes to prove it,” he muttered as an afterthought.

The one-eyed vigilante chose not to respond beyond grumbling under his breath as he turned his full attention to Launchpad. “Well, what do you need?” Drake queried, rubbing at his temple in an attempt to focus through his ever-worsening ailment.

“I need you to help me get this part out so I can finish fixing this damn thing.”

Launchpad didn’t really need the help but it was a convenient excuse to keep the two feuding ducks from turning their argument into an all-out brawl. His attempt at diplomacy was quickly rewarded with Drake’s rerouted attack.

“You haven’t fixed the _turbine_ yet? What the hell is taking so long?!”

Launchpad’s brow twitched angrily at the unproductive griping. “Hey, not my fault _someone_ decided it would be a good idea to shove the fuckin’ Ratcatcher down her throat!” he yelled, unable to keep himself from snarling at Drake as his frustration mounted.

“My plan was flawless! It was your flying that burnt the engine out!” Drake responded stubbornly, unwilling to back down even if it was his best friend he was arguing needlessly with. 

Reggie sighed exhaustedly as the spat continued, tuning the others out as he leaned his stiff body against the tall wooden table behind him. He cocked a brow when Drake’s uncharacteristically quiet daughter lifted herself onto the workbench he was resting against as she chuckled softly at her quarrelling caregivers. Gosalyn was surprised when, after a brief moment of contemplation, Reggie mimicked the action, lifting himself up to sit beside her. She tilted her head at the oddly deliberate increase in proximity, reaching towards him without thinking in an attempt tear Reggie’s attention from the escalating argument. Green eyes widened when the action caused the jittery plant duck to jump harshly at the contact, lashing out at the appendage that dared touch him.

Gosalyn actually looked hurt at the reaction. “ _Geez_ , sorry,” she said dejectedly as she rubbed at her now slightly aching hand.

Reggie chewed the inside of his cheek nervously as he fished a cigarette out of his coat in an attempt to stall as he considered his response. “Nothing personal kid,” he muttered awkwardly, keeping his voice low to avoid the attention of the others, “I just… don’t like to be touched.”

“Yeah. I’ve kinda noticed,” Gosalyn responded softly; she made a mental note to try a bit harder to remember the timid man’s fear of physical contact. Gosalyn regarded Reggie thoughtfully as she watched him smoke his cigarette, struck with the sudden need to pull his attention away from the disagreement in front of them which had just escalated to include both Jake and Benny. It didn’t seem the others would be done with their “discussion” anytime soon anyway. “He really does care about you a lot ya know,” she finally said.

The soft statement made Reggie’s breath catch in his throat causing him to choke on the thick smoke and cough pathetically as he ripped his attention away from the increasingly comical scene still escalating in front of them. “ _What_?” he wheezed out tensely.

“Bud… He really cares about you,” Gosalyn said, “He’d _never_ have done this for any of the other bassists. He sure as hell never did anything to help Jake,” she added with a glance at the dark-haired duck still growling at her father.

“What would you know?” Reggie grumbled, inhaling deeply from his cigarette in an attempt to ease his growing irritation at the course of the conversation.

“… I heard the way he was talkin’ to you… while you were sick.”

Reggie stiffened awkwardly as the implication that she had been intentionally invading his privacy—even if he had been unconscious at the time. “Just what I fucking need, everyone eavesdropping on my business,” he growled, pushing himself off the worktable in an attempt to increase the distance between them.

“To be fair you _were_ screaming half the time,” Gosalyn muttered, quickly searching her thoughts as Reggie walked away. “You really are lucky you know,” she finished, voice rising in volume slightly to make sure he heard her.   

Reggie huffed gutturally at the notion that any part of his life could be considered lucky. “I don’t need a lecture from a damn teenager.”

Gosalyn rolled her eyes at the halfhearted irritation in his voice, lopsided smile sneaking across her face at the knowledge that her observation had actually helped Reggie’s will to fight despite his retreat. She slipped abruptly from her perch when Launchpad shooed Drake away to collect some things for him in an attempt to finally put an end to the conversation that had deviated far too much from talk of the Thunderquack’s current needs. Her slightly longer stride soon had her walking in step with her father as she followed to assist in his search; she knew far more about mechanics than he did anyway.

Reggie sighed in relief when he noted that she had no intention of following him, stopping near Benny and his sulking companion so he could observe Launchpad with them. He almost regretted the move when he felt Jake’s half-lidded glare bearing into him. Maybe he could just ignore it.

“I lost a damn bet because of you.”

Reggie sighed heavily. Apparently not.

“I said you were too much of a fucking coward to actually join this train wreck of a resistance,” Jake continued without bothering to wait for a response, “I had to pay that asshole 100 bucks,” he said with a gesture to Drake, “Hope you’re fucking happy.”

Reggie cocked a brow at the notion. “Oddly… kinda,” he answered, flicking his expended cigarette away with a slight snort.

The retort actually pulled a small chuckle from Benny as Drake and his daughter returned with an armful of various parts and tools.

“Why the hell are _you_ here anyway?” Reggie questioned, suddenly unable to control his curiosity, “What’s in it for you?” He stiffened immediately when the question caused the other man to turn his dark eyes upon him once again. Jake would never cease to be an unsettling presence to him.

“Nothing really,” Jake replied with a dismissive shrug.

“Why even help him at all then?” Reggie murmured, turning to observe as Drake returned to help his increasingly frustrated friend as he continued to fuss with the engine.

“Cause I wanna see Negaduck suffer _extensively_ , and considering that it’ll probably kill both him _and_ Mallard I couldn’t possibly let myself miss out on that fun,” Jake said with a satisfied smile.

A loud clatter echoed against the walls as Gosalyn suddenly dropped the metal pieces she had been holding. “SHUT UP!” she yelled, spinning around and advancing slightly upon the smug mallard behind her. “You don’t know shit!”

“Cool it girly, you know as well as I do what that freaky shaman bitch said about the ultimate _solution_ to your father’s little problem.” The cruel smile didn’t budge as Jake stood to match the glaring redhead’s height invading her personal space in an obvious challenge to her to back down.

The action immediately had Drake storming protectively towards his daughter, fire in his eyes and fury written on his face.

“If your filthy father wants to kill Negs, he has to join him for the ride to hell,” Jake growled softly, smile only growing toothier as he locked his eyes on the furious parent stomping his way.

“That’s enough!” Drake yelled, pushing Jake back roughly to place himself between the slightly taller duck and his daughter, “Just shut your GOD DAMN hole for a while!”

“Hey, you want my help or not?” Jake retorted, crossing his arms arrogantly over his chest.

“At this point I’m not so sure anymore!”

“Well, too bad. I’m not doing this for you anyway,” Jake answered, flipping a wrist dismissively at him as he turned away from them.

Drake growled furiously, unable to even pull adequate words from his mouth to express his anger.

“To be fair I’m pretty sure that’s not actually what she said,” Benny interposed before Drake could find his voice and intensify the situation once again.

“Yeah, I never really understood that whole _symptom of the cure is the same as that of the disease_ shit,” Launchpad added mockingly as he physically dragged Drake and his still fuming daughter back to the Thunderquack. “Help me out kid,” he said softly to Gosalyn, fully aware she was in desperate need of some sort of distraction from her dad’s dire situation.

“All that you are will cease to exist, but so will his followers,” Benny quoted almost lazily, “She never actually said that he would die.”

“Pfft, might as well have,” Jake mumbled under his breath.

“Launchpad doesn’t seem to think so and he talked to her more than the rest of us,” Benny answered.

“Yeah, well Launchpad is fucking stupid.”

“You know, you sure got a big mouth for such a small duck,” the pilot growled, pointing the large wrench he had been using at Jake in something of an unspoken threat as he passed by on his way to the table Reggie was currently leaning on.

“You should be used to that,” Jake replied with a glare at the still furious crime fighter he was referring to.

Reggie coughed uncomfortably at the suddenly suffocating tension in the room, lighting another cigarette before finally attempting to put a stop to the unsettling discussion. “So are you done yet, or what?” he questioned awkwardly to the man beside him.

“Well,” Launchpad said as he began cleaning his grease covered hands on an already dingy rag, “We would be… if one of our turbines wasn’t jammed. At this rate we’re gonna have to break the fucker to get it out and we don’t exactly have another one lyin’ around to replace it.”

“They got tons of those in the airbase storehouse,” Benny responded.

“Oh, yeah that’s _real_ helpful,” Drake grumbled as he continued to fiddle with the supposedly unsalvageable turbine, “Why don’t we just _ask_ Negaduck’s lackeys for a new one? I’m sure they’ll be perfectly accommodating to our plight.”

Launchpad blinked in genuine confusion at the retort. “Why the hell would they do that?”

Drake’s brow twitched at the response. “I was being facetious!” he yelled without turning his attention from the increasingly frustrating engine.

The answer only served to confuse Launchpad even more. His brow furrowed as he tried to force his brain to deduce what his friend was getting at. He leaned over to Reggie, lowering his voice to avoid having his query irritate Drake further.  “Da fuck’s facetious mean?” he muttered.

Reggie cocked a brow at the question, considering an alternative term that Launchpad would know. “Sarcastic,” he replied simply, eyes narrowing at the clueless expression that answered the revision. “He was joking.”

“Well, why the HELL didn’t he just say that in the first place?!” Launchpad griped, his form stiffening once again to its original position as the unneeded complexity of the term sunk in.

The unexpected yell finally proved to be too much for Drake. He cried out in a fury and frustration, gripping at both sides of his head as his migraine threatened to rip his skull apart. The pain was always there. It throbbed inside his head and tormented him constantly; he had just gotten to a point of desperation where he was able to mostly ignore it— to accept it as part of his punishment for what he’d done. But this was too much.

“That’s IT! I’m sick of this shit!” Drake yelled with a violent kick to the front of the aircraft.

As if the blow had acted like some sort of fury activated defibrillation, the engine suddenly surged back to life, metal clattering erratically as the machine spat the lodged piece of steel out of the turbine and into Drake’s face.

The impact threw Drake backwards in his shock, feet slipping from beneath him as he recoiled. “FUCK!” he griped, putting a hand to the place where the shrapnel had sliced his cheek.

The angry curse had Gosalyn immediately rushing to her father’s side, pulling his hand away to inspect the severity of the cut despite the fact that she was aware the wound would close within minutes. The knowledge didn’t stop her from pressing a clean cloth to the deep gash as Launchpad rushed forward to cut the engine before something else could go wrong.

Launchpad wasn’t even sure how it had managed to turn itself on, but a final check of the machine had him snorting in surprise. “Heh, well that worked,” he said.

“Happy to help,” Drake grumbled cynically, holding the already blood-soaked rag to his face as Gosalyn helped him back to his feet.

The annoyed look and bleeding wound soon had Jake roaring with uncontrollable laughter. “ _Holy shit_ , that was _so_ worth sticking around for,” he said through his snickers as he stood once again from his chair and turned to leave. “Come on Ben, this can’t possibly get better than that. Let’s go find something else fun to do.”

Benny, who looked to be nearly oblivious to what had transpired, turned his head sluggishly over his shoulder to stare at his friend’s already retreating form. He slid from his seat to follow, pausing in his tracks for a moment in favor of turning back towards the others. “Jake’s an ass,” he said simply.

The observation received a “no shit” snort from Drake.

“But he is right about one thing,” Benny continued as if ignorant of the mocking noise. “If you’re not willing to give up your life to stop him, you’re never gonna be able to destroy him completely.”

“NO!”

Benny turned his attention to the concise and furious reply, eyeing the young redhead now clenching her fists and glaring at him.

“That is NOT an option!” Gosalyn screamed, tears flooding into her angry voice.

“… Gosalyn,” Drake said gently, eyes softening as he reached out to comfort his suddenly distraught daughter.

“NO!” Gosalyn repeated, clenching her eyes shut before turning to her nearby father and gripping him tightly. “ _I won’t lose you_ ,” she cried, burying her face in his neck as she bawled.

“That is your _only_ option,” Benny continued, undeterred by the emotional display. “He is a very large part of you, but you are the origin of the life force. _You_ have to end this… Either your life will cease to exist or he will continue on and you’ll just drift away.”

“What the hell made you such an expert anyway?!” Drake yelled, turning furious eyes on the impartial mammal as Gosalyn pulled away and attempted to get herself back under control.

“.. You seem to forget I can actually read that book. I know what it says a hell of a lot better than you do.”

Drake clenched his jaw at the response, blood still dripping down his cheek from his rapidly healing wound—he didn’t particularly like the implied fact that Benny was smarter than he was. “And yet you admit the wording is almost deliberately ambiguous,” he grumbled through his teeth.

“…perhaps,” Benny said, finally turning away to follow his long gone comrade. “Perhaps part of me just wants to believe we can all survive this.”

The soft statement was all that accompanied him as he slipped nearly silently from the cavern. Drake scowled at the retreating form, unable to keep himself from wishing the other man would just burst into flames for daring to upset his daughter, but deep down he knew what Benny had been trying to accomplish with his blunt pep talk: he wanted to make sure Drake had no intention of putting his own life over defeating Negaduck, and as much as Drake wanted to believe that such a thought had never crossed his mind, he knew the still upset teen beside him was enough to sway that decision. Benny had forced him to face that fear head on before the battle had even started.   

Drake sighed heavily, rubbing at his now completely closed wound one more time to remove most of the lingering blood before turning to address his family. “I need you two track down Gander and his squad while Reggie and I prepare for takeoff,” he said, speaking gently but aiming a stern look at his daughter to convey that his tone was not an invitation for dispute. 

Launchpad nodded silently, placing a strong hand on Gosalyn’s shoulder to lead her away. She was obviously restraining herself as she allowed him to steer her gently from her beloved parent. She threw an arm around Launchpad’s back as he pulled her into a one arm embrace, hoping deeply that Drake couldn’t hear her soft sniffles.

Reggie rubbed at the back of his neck uncomfortably, still watching the two birds walk away as Drake moved to begin his preparations. Just as he opened his mouth to question what he should be doing the other avian began barking orders at him.

“Load those boxes of ammunition,” Drake said pointing a finger at several small crates near the workbenches. “I gotta get the Ratcatcher then I’ll need your help getting these pulleys set up,” he finished with a gesture towards the rope covered ground.

Reggie didn’t even offer a nod to voice his compliance as he began grabbing the cumbersome cases. He glanced at Drake as he began walking his motorcycle towards the open back of the aircraft, cocking a brow curiously at the vicious scene painted on the bike’s side. A slight shudder ran through his body at the unsettling sight of the pictorial, avian monster tearing apart its helpless prey. “Why the name Ratcatcher?” he queried, more to break the silence than anything else. Reggie didn’t usually have any desire to even attempt small talk, but the heavy atmosphere urged him to try anyway as he watched Drake secure his beloved vehicle with a series of straps.

Drake snorted slightly at the question, shifting awkwardly under the mutant’s gaze; he wasn’t much of a fan of small talk either. “It was named after Sparks actually. I spent a lot of time trying to catch that slippery bastard even before I realized he was the only way to power that machine.” With a final grunt Drake finished his task, ducking out of the Thunderquack and leaning against the table across from where Reggie was now smoking and shifting his feet through the dirt. “Damn druggie took more than a few chunks out of me that’s for sure… and that was before it could grow back,” he muttered with an annoyed scratch to the new scar on his face.

The comment made Reggie tilt his head in contemplation, regarding the other man curiously as Drake pilfered yet another one of his unprotected cigarettes which he had left on the table. “Why didn’t your eye grow back?” he questioned, moving closer so he could slip his pack back into his coat pocket to prevent the loss of anymore precious tobacco.

“Hmm, don’t exactly know the answer to that myself,” Drake through his exhale of smoke, “Seems my body just heals to the point that’s necessary to sustain my life. My open wounds close quickly and my vital organs will regrow if removed, but anything beyond that is apparently considered superfluous. He tore out both my kidneys once and only one grew back, so I guess my body just gives back what I need,” he finished with a shrug, pushing himself away from the table and making his way towards the back of the cave. “Come on. We need to get these ropes attached to the catapult system at the back.”

A slightly disturbed look crossed Reggie’s face at the nonchalant way in which Drake discussed his condition, but he ignored the thought as he investigated the device Drake was currently pointing to. Blue eyes travelled along the ropes, following them to the end of the cave where some snaked beneath the Thunderquack on a track of sorts while the rest attached to a makeshift trap door that had apparently been set up to allow covert access to the outside. One by one each cable was secured and a well contained fire was lit forcing steam into the chamber where it could build up the pressure needed to make everything work. Drake returned to diligently make his final preparations as Reggie continued to smoke and scratch his toes lightly against the ground in a somewhat awkward manner as he started to grow uncomfortable at being left alone with Drake. He was internally grateful when he heard the telltale sound of footsteps resonating against the stone walls signaling the return of Drake’s family along with a small group that immediately put Reggie on edge once again.

A random assortment of men and women now stood before him each more daunting than the last. He only hoped they didn’t hear the way he swallowed nervously at the sight of them. The discomfort only grew worse when the elderly mallard at the head of the group began eyeing him up and down, investigating the young adult he had agreed to put his faith in. Reggie was surprised to see someone that was actually smaller than Drake was who still possessed as much dominance, causing him to cringe slightly under the weight of the older bird’s expression.

Despite the gruff look and disapproving aura it was the woman to his left that voiced the collective opinion of the group. “This is the asshol’ whose got our lives in ‘is hands?” she questioned, disgusted look clearly displaying her displeasure at the notion.

Reggie sneered slightly at the way her rudeness was highlighted by her gruff accent, turning his annoyed eyes away and inhaling harshly on his cigarette through his scowl. Somehow it only irritated him even more that her good looks and petite frame contrasted the menacing nature of her attitude so starkly.

“Enough Simmons,” her short superior scolded lightly, “I’m not asking you to put your trust in him. Just our fearless leader. So, Drake my boy,” he continued as he walked slowly towards his once highly regarded, if uncontrollably reckless, soldier to regard the other mallard seriously. “What crazy-ass plan have you got for us time?”

Drake couldn’t help but smile lopsidedly at the other man. Although he had never much enjoyed taking orders from his former commander, he had come to consider the aging mallard as something of a father figure—the closest thing he’d ever really had to one anyway—and he couldn’t help his desire for the other man’s approval.

“Only the craziest for you Gander.” Drake hesitated, his slight smile slipping away as the seriousness of the situation bore down upon him, “I’ve always had to ask too much of you,” he continued, “All of you… but you’re the only ones who can do this. You’re the only _real_ soldiers we’ve got, and I need you to help me protect them... as many of them as we can,” he paused again to regard the sulking mutant behind him as though waiting for Reggie to offer some sort of assurance that the innocent citizens of his city would not be sacrificed in vain. “The plan is pretty straight forward,” he continued when he received only a glare in response. “Our forces will be splitting in two. I need all of you to lead the two groups out to the farthest entrance in each direction. We’ll need a straight shot down Main Street. If we can get that I think we have a chance. You’ll just have to hold them off long enough for us to get out to the badlands, and if all goes as planned our forces will increase exponentially once we get out there.”

“What if it _doesn’t_ go as planned,” one of the men asked.

“Then we’re fucked. There is no contingency plan for this situation.” The statement sent a collective mummer across the group causing Drake to clear his throat gruffly in an unspoken request for silence. “I don’t expect any of you to care about Reggie. Believe me he doesn’t give a shit about you.”

Reggie frowned at the resulting grunts and scoffs of the group, scowling as he turned his head away from them. At least Drake was honest.

“But I do expect you to do everything you can to make sure he doesn’t die because he’s the only chance we’ve got,” Drake continued, “You only have two jobs: make sure Reggie here doesn’t get captured or killed, and take out as many of those bastards as you can.”

The growled end to the order was followed by a varying array of approving sounds, many of the men and women grinning in delight; they had been waiting for this day for a long time.

Drake almost seemed not to notice the reaction as he cast his half gaze upon the ground, a soul-crushing guilt suddenly creeping into his demeanor. “I know I hardly deserve the title of fearless leader you _ludicrous_ lot have so graciously given me…. but I’ll try to be worthy of it again. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure as many of you make it back as possible.”

His concern was rewarded with a round of chuckles that seemed blatantly out of character for the battle-hardened warriors. Even Gander let out a rare laugh at the melodramatic note as he shook his head slightly and turned to regard the soldiers behind him, waiting for their collective nods of approval before taking a small package from one of his comrades. “We knew what we signed up for when we followed you to this mess of a city,” he said as he slowly unwrapped the paper encased parcel, unfurling a slightly tattered black and purple cape as he walked closer to his old colleague. “We’re behind you all the way, _Darkwing_.”

Drake’s entire body stiffened at the sight of the old symbol of his status as cloaked protector of St. Canard. All at once he could barely contain his emotions as the long ago rejected garment touched his hands once again. He pushed back the tears threatening to surface in a desperate attempt to not look weak in front of the most impressive group of people he had ever known. “I-” Drake swallowed thickly as his voice cracked beneath the effort of staying composed. “I.. don’t even know what to say. This is… this,” he laughed slightly as he regarded them all with great admiration and gratitude. It was the first time in a long time he had felt even remotely worthy of being so highly regarded.

“Don’t get all sappy on us now,” Gander grumbled with a slight smirk, “You got a reputation as an asshole to uphold after all.”

The response was followed by the approving nods and scattered smiles of the rest of the group, each of them displaying their agreement wordlessly.

“Heh… thank you,” Drake said softly, grinning ever so slightly as he swept the cape behind him and fastened it in its proper place.  

His old mentor regarded him proudly for a moment before turning back to his platoon to address the impatient group. “Come on kids, let’s go _huntin’_!”

With that simple declaration the entire group left in a cheering, fist pumping mass. There was a brief moment of relief for Reggie as the room emptied, the stifling feeling caused by their presence easing slightly at their departure. The reprieve was short lived, Drake soon ushering him wordlessly towards the newly operational aircraft. Reggie stiffened at the way the small man managed to be so demanding even without saying a word. He grumbled under his breath and inhaled deeply on his cigarette to drown out the feeling with the harsh burn of nicotine.

Blue eyes widened as Reggie’s brain suddenly wrapped about the destination he was being rushed towards, wooded feet stopping in their tracks. “Wait… you expect me to get _IN_ that thing?!” he sputtered.

“Why the hell did you THINK we were busting our asses fixing it?!” Drake growled in response.

“ _We_?” Launchpad grumbled, arms crossing irately over his grease-stained shirt.

If Drake had heard, he didn’t acknowledge it. He _had_ been the one to fix the turbine after all—accidental luck notwithstanding. A soft snort was all that indicated an opinion of any kind as Drake turned away from the still wide eyed bassist and disappeared into the craft.

The lack of response did little to stop the annoyed glare Launchpad aimed at his back, but he moved to follow despite the disapproval. “No worries Reg, I’m totally an expert,” he said with a brief pat to Reggie’s back as he passed by.

It was more than the fleeting physical contact that made Reggie’s entire body go ridged. Somehow the lighthearted attempt at comfort did little to reassure him as he stared fearfully at the intimidating craft. Somewhere in the back of his mind he could tell Drake was talking to him, but all he could really hear was the horrible pounding of his racing heart in his ears. Considering they weren’t even in the air yet he wasn’t off to a good start.

“REGGIE!”

The frustrated yell finally pulled the petrified mutant from his stupor, bringing widened eyes to focus on the irritated mallard staring him down from the Thunderquack’s entryway.

“You’re not going to tell me you have a fear of heights now, are you?” Drake grumbled.

Reggie didn’t much appreciate the annoyance in his voice, but he found himself unable to say anything about it. He settled for shaking his head slowly back and forth, his still slightly widened gaze doing little to reassure the other man.

Drake scoffed in reply, turning back into the darkened airship with only the soft sound of Reggie’s footsteps behind him as any guarantee that he was being followed.

Reggie shook pathetically as he took the seat next to Gosalyn, stealthily mimicking her actions to keep from having to inquire how exactly the intricate seatbelt was supposed to work. He couldn’t stop the voice in his head praying that the simple straps would be enough to keep him alive. A glance around the cabin did little to put his mind at ease, his spine stiffening once again as Drake positioned himself by the still open door where a makeshift lever was posed to release the painfully taught cords outside.

“What exactly are the ropes for?” Reggie questioned nervously.

“Helps us pick up speed faster,” Launchpad answered as he continued to startup the already humming plane. “Ya know, like an aircraft carrier… only underground… and not a damn floating fortress.”

Reggie paled at the response. “You’re telling me we’re gonna get flung through those rocks, at high speed, by a primitive system of steam powered ropes _assuming_ that the damn thing actually opens at the right time for us to make some inconspicuous exit in a flying metal death trap?”

“.. Pretty much.”

“NO FUCKING WAY!” Reggie yelled, thrashing frantically against his bonds. “Let me out!”

“Too late,” Drake responded bluntly, barely giving Reggie the time to fumble briefly with his seatbelt before bracing himself against the door and kicking the crude switch outside.

The action simultaneously released the series of ropes holding the makeshift hanger door closed and flung the craft towards the opening at high speed. The force of the overpowered launch almost stole Reggie’s breath completely; the sudden sight of the chaos outside only made his heart stick in his throat and his eyes widen in shock at the barrage of enemy forces coming at them head on.

“Holy shit,” Drake gasped as the plane rolled violently to the side forcing him to grip the seat in front of him for dear life to avoid being thrown across the vessel.

“Fuck!” Launchpad yelled, barely pausing long enough for Drake to seat himself before being forced to yank the Thunderquack back in the other direction as his companion frantically secured himself in his chair.

It was obvious that they had not expected the welcome party of armored helicopters to be waiting for them, and the violent maneuvers that resulted did not sit well with Reggie at all. His voice was almost literally torn from his throat, the involuntary screams of terror soon reverberating off every surface of the craft.

Drake twitched uncontrollably at the ear-shattering barrage of shrieks, growling furiously in response to the unexpected auditory assault. “God damnit! Suck it _up_ Reggie. I mean, I know Launchpad is prone to being a bit flamboyant in his flying but you act like you’ve _never_ flown before!”

“I HAVEN’T!”

“Oh… well, this must be absolutely terrifying then,” Drake said with a slight laugh, turning his attention back to the front just as afore mentioned nuisance of a pilot rolled past another tall building. He flinched when the screams resumed, immediately spinning around in a desperate attempt to calm the irrational mutant before the frantic yells literally split his head in half. “Alright, listen Reggie.”

The screams continued.

“Reggie.”

Still more screams.

“REGGIE!!”

Reggie was barely able to control his own voice, hyperventilating as he clenched his teeth and gripped the seat below him in an attempt to keep the sounds at bay.

“Look, you _need_ to calm down,” Drake said with a conscious attempt to sound as reassuring as possible, “We’re going to do everything we can to keep you safe, but if you pass out on us it’s going to make it a hell of a lot harder, okay?”

“Keep me _safe_?! I’ve never been in more danger!” Reggie replied lividly.

Drake inhaled heavily at the annoying—if admittedly justified—retort, doing his best to keep his cool as Launchpad continued to swerve back and forth and curse under his breath. “Just… just trust me,” he said gently, “I won’t let you die.”

Reggie still looked somewhat unsure, but he nodded anyway, closing his eyes and breathing deeply in an attempt to get himself under control.

“ _Wow_ , Pop,” Gosalyn said with a slight smirk. “That was super sweet.”

Drake’s glare clearly said that he did not appreciate her sarcasm. “Just hurry and get your gear while we have a second to breathe, will ya?” he grumbled, “Someone has to help me snipe these assholes.”

Gosalyn leapt from her seat with far too much enthusiasm for Reggie’s taste causing him to grip the leather beneath him even tighter as she released the bonds holding her down and rushed to the back of the plane. He couldn’t help but flinch slightly every time she banged into something in the back, somehow distinctly unsettled by her lack of tact. The unceasing flow of soft knocking she produced kept Reggie from noticing when another set of noises joined in the melody, but he was not ignorant of it long when the door beside him flung open and turned the entire inside of the plane into an enraged hurricane. His eyes widened and a grimace spread across his face at the sight of the eerie looking fan that had invaded. The decrepit body seemed to almost be decaying right in front of his eyes, drool dripping from ragged teeth, body hunched and familiar red eyes glaring right through him. It was suddenly obvious that none of Negaduck’s army was truly alive anymore: taken over by their ruler eyes, body and soul.   

The soft sound of Gosalyn’s gasp, barely audible over the aggressive wind, immediately had the rabid bird rushing towards her, grabbing her from behind and dragging her towards the open door as if to fling her from the craft. Gosalyn grasped wildly at the quiver on her back, panicked fingers searching blindly for one of her arrows and feet kicking against her attacker. Despite the flailing she managed to force the bolt into his eye, the pressure quickly piercing the venerable tissue and lodging in the other avian’s brain. The result was immediately apparent as the blinding crimson glow slipped from the previously possessed eyes leaving only an inky black pupil behind. Reggie shuddered as the body slid from the arrow leaving sickly bits of gore and brain matter behind. Gosalyn dropped the bloodied projectile in shock as she registered the viscera that it was now covered in. She had been forced to kill to protect herself before but never in such an up close and grisly way. 

Drake barely had a chance to react at all, lifting himself only slightly from his seat before the craft lurched beneath his feet as more of the deranged fans landed on the nose of the vehicle.

“ _Gaaah_! Fuckers!” Launchpad yelled, tipping the plane to the side in an attempt to force them out of his line of sight. His eyes widened as they fell and revealed the large, flying juggernaut that had just situated itself above them. “What in the _hell_ is that?” he questioned breathlessly.

The massive machine floated in eerie repose above them, struggling as best it could to keep up with their speed. Immediately a barrage of massive guns were aimed at them, sights set on the smaller craft but unwilling to fire for an unspoken fear of harming the floral bird in the back. The display of weaponry did, however, distract Launchpad long enough for an enormous grappling hook to shoot from the back and embed itself in the front of the Thunderquack with a violent jolt.

Drake growled softly at the unexpected attack, slamming his hand against the switch that would release the large gun in their hold. He clenched his teeth angrily when the ship simply groaned in refusal. Apparently the aircraft had not recovered fully from its previous abuse.

“Well, that’s a new trick,” Launchpad grumbled, flipping switches as he waited for Gosalyn to secure herself once again. “Hold on kids,” he said, jerking the plane harshly to the side in an attempt to detach the unsolicited cable. He cursed volatilely when the defiant maneuvers proved useless against the broad iron hook in their hull, searching desperately for a solution as more of Negaduck’s deranged army jumped fearlessly from the back of the hovering warship above them and onto the front of the Thunderquack.

“Shit,” Drake growled softly at the shrieking mammal that had landed in front of them, sneering at the way the dog was crawling on all fours and digging at the windshield as though he could scratch through it if he tried hard enough.

Drake jumped onto his seat without warning, sticking his body through the already open window beside him and leaning out far more than his attentive friend was comfortable with. Launchpad cursed softly as he latched onto Drake’s belt and did the best he could to keep the plane level with one hand, hoping he could steady the other man enough for him to not fall from the aircraft altogether. Even after the first shot sounded the viscous canine remained unharmed, still clawing and snarling defiantly at them.

“You fucking missed him!” Launchpad said in obvious astonishment, “How could you _miss_ him?!”

Drake snarled at the unpleasant retort. “Well, pardon my poor _depth perception_!” he yelled with a glare at his so called friend.

“He was two feet in front of you!”

“Hey! ONE eye!” Drake griped pointing to his empty socket for emphasis. “There’s a reason I use a _shotgun_ to shoot people now!”

The earsplitting bang of said weapon emphasized Drake’s point and made Reggie stiffen in his seat. His breathing became frantic at the uncensored gore of bones breaking and flesh splattering beneath the force of high powered shrapnel. The harsh beat of the wind against his face seemed to mimic the rapid beating of his heart like some physical manifestation of his terror. Reggie was almost tempted to scream again, but the sound caught in his throat creating more of a stifled whine than a vocalization of horror. He resorted to gripping his ears tightly when his voice proved useless hoping desperately that muffling the racing wind would take the fear with it. The leafy limbs clamped tighter against his head at the sound of more muted shots sending more invaders screaming from the aircraft and to their deaths several hundred feet below.

“Shit,” Launchpad muttered as frantic fingers raced over dials in a vain hunt for a solution to their current quandary. “Take care of this for a second Drake,” he said with an abnormal calm as he slipped from his seat and raced to the back of the ship.

The wide-eyed look and frantic yell Drake let out at the sudden shift in duties hardly did much to ease Reggie’s nerves.

“ _Launchpad_!” Drake cried out as he was forced to take the helm, “Get back here! I can’t fly this thing!!”

“See that ground thing? Yeah, just don’t hit that!”

Drake screamed again as he was forced to weave frantically around several smaller craft, breathing heavily when one of them clipped the side of the Thunderquack due to his inability to fly properly. “LAUNCHPAD!”

“Yeah, yeah, cool it will ya,” Launchpad said as he raced back to the front, leaning out his already busted window to point his newly acquired weapon at the flying fortress above them. “Just one, more, second,” he said softly as he aimed the warhead at its target. He pulled himself back into the plane the second the explosive was released, grabbing the stick once again and forcing the plane sideways to snap the now compromised wire connecting them to the larger craft before it took them down with it.

Once Drake recovered enough from his near heart attack he was able to fume furiously at the annoyingly satisfied mallard beside him. “I don’t like looking like a fool LP,” he growled.

Launchpad actually had to stifle a laugh at the comment, still giggling slightly as he spoke. “You don’t say,” he said, “I never noticed.” He was cracking up by the final word causing Drake to grind his teeth furiously.

“I fucking hate you sometimes.”

“Well, hate me later. We got bigger problems,” Launchpad replied with a fearful look at the gauges in front of him.

“What _now_?” Drake groaned.

“They uh.. kinda hit our fuel tank.”

“You mean we’re gonna crash?!” Reggie screamed fearfully.

“…. Yeah pretty much.”

This time Reggie found his voice easily.

Drake winced at the revived screaming, turning towards Reggie with a serious look. “Shut up Reggie!” he snapped, admittedly surprised when the panicked plant duck immediately stopped yelling. “ _Thank_ you,” he muttered, quickly turning his attention back to Launchpad. “Can we make it LP?”

“I think so,” Launchpad said with a grunt as he used all his energy to keep the struggling aircraft as level as possible. “But it’s gonna be close. We’re going down and we’re goin’ fast.”

“I was afraid of that,” Drake muttered as he shifted back to regard the panicked duck behind him. “You have to call the plants Reggie,” he said.

Reggie stared at him with mouth agape and eyes widened as though Drake were a bonafide freak of nature. “What?!”

“The plants!” Drake snapped, quickly losing his cool as their plane lost altitude, “I know you can control them, so fucking do it!”

“I… I don’t know how!” Reggie sputtered in reply.

“Yes you do you’ve done it before,” Drake said urgently, “Why the hell did you think we needed you?!”

The notion was shocking to Reggie. Why _did_ he think they needed him? Drake had never explicitly said that his control over flora was the reason that they wanted his help so badly but now that he considered the idea it really was the only thing that made sense. How could he let himself get dragged into something when he didn’t even know what the hell he was doing? The vison of deep blue eyes and a watery smile flashed through his head giving ample reminder of exactly what it was that had truly coaxed him into this dilapidated hunk of metal on a set course for certain doom. He closed his eyes, reaching for a moment in hopes that he might just be able to make sense of the collective jumble of voices in his head, desperately trying to coax the plant life outside to speak words that actually made sense. He shuddered at the rush of unpleasant emotions that flooded into his body as he opened himself up to them, breath speeding to nearly unbearable proportions once again as he ripped himself from the connection in fear of the experience.

Drake clenched his teeth at the obviously failed attempt, growing more fervent as the ground grew closer. “God damnit help us Reggie!” he screamed.

“I CAN’T!”

The defeated yell was followed quickly by the horrifying lurching of the entire craft, the rough surface of the metal underbelly leaving angry gouges in the ground as the helicopter hybrid crashed into the dirt. Reggie immediately began flailing against his bonds, nearly ripping the belts from the seat beneath him in his delirious attempt to free himself. He immediately collapsed once he was outside, panting heavily and pressing his forehead to the dirt in an attempt to calm his racing heart. A gentle melody of comforting words began to fill his head, the soft voices seeming almost desperate to sooth him. His brow furrowed against the soft layer of grass beneath his skin as he coaxed his head to lift. Had that grass been there a minute ago? The despairing cries of Launchpad quickly stifled the internal question, coaxing Reggie’s attention to the rest of the slightly scuffed landing party.

“My poor baby!” Launchpad cried, opening the engine as best he could and letting the smoke pour out so he could investigate. “She’s never gonna be the same after this,” he whimpered.

If Reggie didn’t hate the plane so much he might have felt bad.

Drake patted his woeful friend’s back fleetingly as he moved quickly to the back of the craft. “Help me with the Ratcatcher Gos,” he said urgently to his daughter who was still collecting ammunition from the burning plane.

She disappeared quickly, soon busting through the back of the craft so that they could remove the bike before it endured any more damage.

“Stop messing with the plane LP, they’re gonna be here any minute,” Drake scolded as they walked the motorcycle away from the wreckage.  

“Easy for you to say! You never liked her!” Launchpad snapped in return.

Reggie was shocked to see he was actually tearing up at the notion that his beloved aircraft would be dead by the time all was said and done.

Drake’s brow twitched at the unnecessarily pathetic outburst, but he chose to ignore it as he turned his attention to the still kneeling mutant beside him. “You have to call the plants Reggie.”

A soft scowl met the demand as Reggie turned his head away in some sort of silent refusal.

“I know you can. I’ve seen you do it.”

“I don’t know how I do it, okay?!” Reggie yelled. The malice was quickly stolen when he was forced to endure the desperate and silently pleading expression on Drake’s face. Reggie sighed heavily at the look, shuddering slightly at the soft sounds of the distant hoard of mindless followers growing nearer. If he didn’t do something soon there would be no one left to argue with. “Fine,” he mumbled. “I’ll try.”

He pushed himself shakily to his feet, trying desperately to ignore the way his legs still quivered from the traumatizing voyage that had brought him to this precipice. The mumbled jargon in his head grew stronger at his change in stance, the plants seeming to enter a new level of intensity at his revival. Reggie walked slowly to the edge of the small rise they had landed on, looking over the city as he breathed deeply and tried as best he could to connect to the web of words that spun around relentlessly in his mind. It was like being dropped in a foreign country and trying to speak the language even though you had no idea where you were even at. Reggie felt like he was chasing strands of knowledge around in circles; just when he thought he could almost hear what one was saying it seemed to take a left turn and lead him straight into a wall.

Reggie could feel Drake shifting anxiously beside him, breathing unspoken words for him to hurry up. “It’s not fucking doing anything,” he grumbled when the older man finally inched too close for comfort.

“Well how the hell did you do it last time? All these trees came from somewhere,” Drake responded with a gesture to the many rejuvenated plants around them, trying desperately to keep from snapping at the unhelpful response.

“I… don’t know.”

The look Drake gave him in reply clearly said that answer wasn’t good enough. Reggie sighed heavily at the daunting expression, closing his eyes once again as he attempted to let the world fall away. How did he do it last time? Just as the thought flickered through his mind another voice seemed to pierce the labyrinth of chaos in his head and speak to him gently as if to comfort his troubled thoughts.

_The earth,_ it said.

“Earth,” Reggie whispered to himself. He glanced down at the dark dirt beneath his feet, eyes widening slightly at the small bed of grass that had grown around him as he had been standing there. He gasped at the way the soft foliage grew instantly fuller when he worked his toes deeper into the soil, quivering as it filled his body with nutrients. All at once the hurricane of voices turned into a gentle stream. He still couldn’t quite tell what they were saying but he could somehow _feel_ what they were saying.

_HELP!_

Reggie inhaled sharply at the single loud word that pierced the layer of foreign dialect, eyes shooting open at the sound of it as though he could spot the source of the disembodied voice. What he saw instead was a beautiful array of small flowers and shrubs that had created a multicolored radius around him. He flushed slightly at the unsatisfied look on Drake’s face.

“Oh yeah, that’s _real_ helpful,” Launchpad grumbled, “We can kill him with landscaping.”

“Shut up Launchpad,” Drake said, unwilling to let him be a brat just because he was upset about his beloved plane. “Try again Reggie… _please_ try.”

Reggie sighed heavily at the plea, overcome by the desperate and somewhat pathetic way Drake had said it. He cocked a contemplative brow at the ground, struck by the only other idea he could really think of. With a quick glance to the mass of red-eyed metal fans making their way over the horizon he dropped to his knees and buried his fingers deep into the moist dirt. All at once a wall within him crumbled and released a surge of suppressed desperation. It became all too clear in that moment that it wasn’t the plants that had been blocking him out but his own fear of sharing their essence that had jumbled their words and muted their messages. It was a two way street, and they had been trying to reach out to him for months only to be met with a wall. Reggie broke beneath the weight of the realization as their cries filled his head, possessing him with demons that weren’t even his own. Blue eyes widened as the grip on his psyche became more severe, leaving Reggie with little chance of being able to tell where the others ended and he began. He clenched his teeth and gripped at his hair as he shook uncontrollably at the suddenly all too clear words screaming in his head.

“…Reggie?” Drake asked softly.

The quiet question was met with an ear-piercing wail: a bellowing cry of sorrow and fury. It was not an answer, merely an outward sign of an internal breakdown. Reggie was no longer aware the other mallard was even there. He rose eerily to his feet, bloodshot eyes gazing upon the city in fury, glazed over as though he had lent the other plants his soul so they might have life.

“It’s our turn now,” Reggie hissed, voice low and laced with an almost alien malice.

Drake stiffened at the eerily angry statement. “What are you-”

“Tear it down,” Reggie snarled, “Break their bones and destroy their city! Tear it to the fucking _GROUND_!!”

Drake stared at the ground as it began to shake beneath his feet, backing away from the suddenly possessed mutant as he noticed his daughter inching closer in uncertainty.

“Dad?” Gosalyn questioned.

“It’s alright Gos, just…..” Drake gaped as he trailed off, staring to the distance as the source of the minor earthquake became suddenly apparent.

In the distance a small army of uprooted trees was trudging steadily towards them, wading through the sea of still dead foliage that remained in the forest. Some were gnarled and rotting, others seemed to be barely standing while some looked as if they had just sprouted and grown to full term in a matter of seconds, but they all had split their trunks in half and now walked as though it was second nature. One nearly had to crawl on all fours due to the unevenness of its legs, but it still carried on as though unaware that its mobility was impaired. Knotted faces twisted into malicious snarls as they screamed shrilly into the foggy evening, voicing their own anger as best they could without Reggie’s words to speak for them. At the head of the pack one particularly tall and majestic looking willow lead the march. It somehow managed to look old and wise despite its freshly grown branches and pale green leaves, its towering stature only adding to the feeling of leadership.

Gosalyn gaped as the massive tree passed by her, breathless in awe of the display of the arboreal army. “Bitchin’,” she said softly, too captivated by the sight to notice the second towering plant coming at her or hear her father’s frantic warnings as he yanked her out of the path of the oncoming trunk.

Just as she was pulled to safety the great willow bent over, branched fingers reaching for Reggie as he turned almost unresponsively towards the towering tree. He gasped softly as he was lifted off his feet, blue eyes widening as somewhere in his thoughts he pulled his own memories free of the stifling grip of the shared thoughts in his head. He knew this tree. He knew that swaying walk and soft voice. It was the same small sapling he had met during his brief escape from the manor, the same presence that had been trying to guide him over all the chaos of thoughts and voices that had been filling his head. This was his protector. The wooden entity set Reggie gently down on what could be considered a shoulder – although it was far more uneven from the other than it should be giving the tree an oddly hunched appearance. Reggie gripped the flowing mass of slender, leafed branches at his side to steady himself as his perch swayed slightly, the large willow stopping in its tracks as though waiting for his assurance before going forward. Reggie shuddered at the desperate cries in his head, the surrounding trees and mutated shrubs all begging him for life, pleading with him to give them their long awaited vengeance. One thing above all else sounded over and over in his head as though begging him to make their dream a reality: take it back.

“Take back your land,” Reggie said softly, speaking out the words they had so desperately wanted to be heard even before he gave them the gift of sentience. The anger suddenly surged within him as the hoard at his back swayed and stomped in anticipation at the barely audible words. “TAKE IT ALL _BACK_!!” he screamed.

A collective roar followed as the topiary warriors began to run as much as they were physically capable of, tramping incessantly towards the snarling opposition that had just come over the adjacent hill. The smaller shrubs hit first, crashing into the wall of animals and pitting flora against fauna as the trees followed close behind them. The living timber decimated the first wave of forces quickly, gritting bone and flesh beneath their limbs as they swept through the crowd towards the city at their backs. Drake grit his teeth at the sound of the carnage, the collective cries of the enraged forest leaking into his very core and leaving behind an incessant cold that soaked through his entire body. What he saw before him was no longer the terrified man with the angry soul; he was a physical manifestation of anger driven on by the burning sting of a perceived genocide.

Pain seeped into Drake’s expression at the realization of what he had just forced Reggie into. “What have I done?” he whimpered.

It was barely loud enough to hear, but to Launchpad it spoke volumes. He placed a reassuring hand on Drake’s shoulder, squeezing gently when the single eye focused on him. “What you had to,” he said softly.

Drake shook his head at the response, trying to force the guilt from his mind as his friend’s words sunk in. He knew it was true, but he could not have expected the result of his so-called plan. He had known so little about what had happened that night he followed Reggie into the woods that he hadn’t even stopped to consider what might happen if the unstable man gave into the plants completely, but there was no going back now and nothing he could do to stop it.

Drake turned away from the sight, refusing to acknowledge it as the mass of trees met the hoard of fans. He couldn’t face the sounds of their screams or the cracking of wood against soft flesh. “We need to get the Ratcatcher. If they get to Reggie before they can reach the tower then we’re fucked.”

“Can you drive that thing in the dirt?” Launchpad questioned.

“Well enough,” Drake replied, as he pulled as many weapons and ammunition form the rubble as he could while Launchpad climbed onto the back of his bike. “Stay here Gosalyn,” he added when the teen moved to follow them.

“No way!” Gosalyn immediately refuted, “You brought me here to help and I’m gonna help! You’re always treating me like a child, for once ca-”

“JUST DO WHAT I SAY!” Drake roared. He immediately regretted the harshness of his outburst when he was met with the soft glaze of tears in his daughter’s otherwise angry eyes. He sighed heavily, pulling her tightly against him as he breathed in her scent for what might be the last time. The soft smell of oil and dust permeated his sinuses snaking a smile onto his face at the gruff scent of his fearless little girl. “I can’t live without you,” he whispered before pulling away gently. “See what you can do about the Thunderquack. That’s how you can help me, okay?”

Gosalyn chewed her inner cheek fiercely to keep the mounting tears at bay but nodded her compliance. With a final reassuring smile Drake pulled himself away from her and climbed onto the Ratcatcher in front of Launchpad so he could steer while the other man played defense. Gosalyn swallowed thickly as she watched them speed away, storming back to the debilitated plane with a new found resolve to prove herself.

Drake swallowed thickly at the mass of bodies left behind by the trees, the wheels of the bike skidding slightly against the blood-soaked ground as they passed by in pursuit of the trees that had already reached the city boarder and were now tearing down buildings and throwing boulders as they passed. He swerved wildly as they reached the edge of the forest and ran head first into complete chaos. He ducked around the tree legs searching wildly for the one carrying Reggie on its shoulder and trying his best to ignore the sounds of gun fire behind him as Launchpad emptied round after round into their attackers. Drake’s heart skipped a beat when he found the willow, immediately searching for proof that Reggie was still there. The sight of the billowing black coat peeking through the branches held his attention long enough for a deranged fan to lodge herself in the Ratcatcher’s front wheel, her skin ripping beneath the force of the rubber hitting the road. Drake’s curses were muffled by the sound of squealing wheels as he forced the bike onto its side throwing Launchpad off in the process and pulling feathers from his skin as his face skimmed the ground. He had only a split second to rub his bleeding head in pain before he had to roll out of the way of a stumbling tree—the exact tree he had been looking for. Drake tried to yell to Reggie but even if he could have heard him over all the noise, there would have been nothing in mind that could have even recognized Drake for who he was.

An onslaught of images raced through Reggie’s head, torturing him with scenes of floral slaughter with the intent to boil his blood and spur his anger. He was beyond any real thought of self: absorbed into the collective to fuel their rage as they fueled his. Somewhere in the back of his entrapped mind he could tell he was largely responsible for controlling their actions, but it didn’t matter. He was sucked into the sadistically pleasurable feel of being with the mutant army. It felt good to watch the animals suffer, to feel their bodies break and their flesh tear beneath his limbs. In that moment he never wanted it to end, but he was soon ripped from the delusion, suddenly waking from some deep coma as he was thrown from the towering willow and onto the fractured and bloodied ground. The massive hardwood was flailing its arms and grasping furiously at the barrage of hooks that had embedded into its bark. A loud roar echoed across the city as it was pulled to its knees, finally unable to resist the excessive amount of ropes speared into its body. Reggie watched in a stupor as his mighty guardian was pulled to the ground, chainsaws grinding furiously as the leafy limbs lashed out. Reggie screamed at the sight, subconsciously calling a mass of murderous vines to split the concrete beneath him and come to his aid. They ripped bodies apart and cracked skulls into puddles of mangled flesh, but it was no match against the weapon that was unleashed next.

In that split second Reggie could almost recognize the sight of the flame throwers, but he was powerless to stop slaughter that came next. His screech was unlike anything that a living creature had any right to make. It was a haunting cry of pure horror and grief, the terrified screams of hundreds of floral lives searing in pain beneath the ruthless flames filling his head and the sight of his wooden friend burning meeting his gaze. In that moment all that was left of what he was individually fell away leaving behind only the fury that had rooted in his chest and poisoned his thoughts. The vines came again, reaching up from the ground and tearing appendages from their owners as Reggie yelled out his agony and rage. He raced towards the nearest target, wrapping and arm around the other man’s neck and digging his talons into the back of another that he had knocked to the ground as he suffocated the first. When he let his emotions loose in the right way he was a formidable force, and with the help of his leafy antagonists he was a murderous flood of emotion.

Drake stared in horror as Reggie continued to rip corpses apart, tearing at them with an unspeakable rage even after they were dead in a desperate attempt to relieve the lingering screams of agony filling his head. Drake’s whole body began to shake as he watch the scene unfold, transported in his own past to the birth of the monster within him—just as the monster before him. His breathing grew frantic at the satisfaction in Reggie’s eyes, suddenly feeling as though he was looking in a mirror and seeing reflected back at him his own worst memories. He raced towards the deranged duck, grabbing Reggie by the arms and forcing his flailing body to the ground to stop him from continuing to attack the already dead antagonists.

“Stop it Reggie! STOP!” Drake cried, “ _Please_ ,” he coked out when the other man continued to try and attack him. “Please stop.”

The wavering sound of those final two words finally ripped Reggie from the collective brain, forcing him to face the reality around him. He blinked up at the man above him as he tried to process what was going on, shocked at the pain and tears in the single eye. He pushed Drake roughly from his midsection once he registered that the other bird was sitting on top of him and pinning him to the ground. Reggie’s breath came out in heavy gasps, his lungs suddenly feeling as though someone had just ripped all the oxygen out of the air. He stared down at his shaking hands, slowly putting the pieces together as he took in the sight of the corpses around him and the blood dripping from his trembling fingers. He remembered what Drake had said about them basically being dead already, but it didn’t erase the fact that he had just ended what _was_ left of their lives. Reggie had been many things, but a murderer had never been one of them.

“It’s okay Reggie,” Drake said softly, trying to calm the other man before he fell into a complete panic. “Just let me help you.”

“NO!” Reggie screamed.

The curt reply was followed by the rough impact of an elongated arm against Drake’s chest, knocking him back and making him gasp for air as Reggie sprinted away. “Wait!” he gasped.

The choked yell finally grabbed Launchpad’s attention, causing him to throw one of his precious few grenades at the wave of fans coming at him to buy him enough time to aid his friend. “You okay Drake?” he asked anxiously as he dropped to one knee to match Drake’s stance.

“Damn, he’s stronger than he looks,” Drake said through his ragged breaths.  

Launchpad growled at the still present vines that had created something of a wall for Reggie as he ran away, swatting at the fleshy strands as they probed his skin. “Fuckin’ plants,” he griped, pulling out the machete on his hip in an attempt to slash at the nearest source of his frustration.

“Don’t hurt them!” Drake wheezed, yelling as best he could as his sternum healed. “I don’t think they really care whose side we’re on.” He groaned as he rose from the ground, steadying himself briefly on Launchpad’s forearm as he lifted to shaky feet. “We need to catch up to Reggie.”

“ _How_? The Ratcatcher is trashed, and we don’t even know where he went.”

“Yes we do,” Drake replied with a brief look to the towering home in the distance. “Come on LP. We already wasted enough time.”

“You’re the boss,” Launchpad mumbled, pausing only briefly to plant a buck shot in an oncoming foe before running after his already departing companion.

Ahead of them Reggie continued to run through the chaotic streets, thrashing vines all around him leaving a trail of corpses in his wake. He raced on mindlessly, driven on by an overwhelming mixture of panic, pain and anger. Tears streamed down his face as the wall of vines and mutant plant protectors shielded him as he ran. There was nothing left in his thoughts but the destination ahead. He finally lifted bloodshot eyes to face the manor, slowing slightly at the sight. A great wave of cracking stone and bending steel filled the metropolis as the building split down its sides, exterior façade falling away to expose the true beast sleeping at its core. The great spiked center rose above the city like a beacon of doom, the cries of the hoard below only growing more excited at the exposition of the metal monument. The few trees that remained turned their attention immediately to the spiked, metal shell, their mighty branches leaving scrapes against the side and their wooden nails screeching against it in a scornful melody of defiance. Their attacks did little against the might of the ridged steel but they continued on in a stark refusal to back down, crushing antagonists and ripping hooks from their bodies as Negaduck’s army continued to try and take them down.

Reggie’s pace increased at the sight, soon bringing him to the edge of the city’s center. The small group of fans near the building’s entrance did little to even slow him down, the nearby trees wordlessly coming to his aid as they swept masses of bodies to the side like ragdolls as if to emphasize their insignificance. Reggie tried desperately to pretend that he couldn’t hear the tall plants screaming as they were set aflame by the growing ranks of fire-wielding underlings, but it was proving extremely difficult. He soon came to a large fissure in the ground that split straight down to the lower levels of the machine. Reggie paused only briefly on the precipice before diving feet first into the dark cavern with a prayer that it wasn’t as deep as it looked. He screamed in pain as the rough landing snapped one of his legs, pulling the appendage tightly to his chest and breathing rhythmically to cope with the discomfort as the limb pulled his wooden flesh back together. Reggie winced slightly at the lingering throb as he rose shakily to his feet. Within a few minutes the ache had subsided completely, but it didn’t stop him from walking gingerly through the inky hallways in an attempt to remain inconspicuous as he searched the maze of tunnels for the heart of the machine. The sparkling glow of a familiar room drew him in as he navigated the labyrinth, urging him towards the dim room with an almost irrepressible need to be in the presence of the corporeal liquid he knew would be there. The twinkling display of soft yellow light pulled him closer, mesmerizing him with the familiar presence of the swaying fluid.

“They really are beautiful, aren’t they?”

Reggie spun around at the soft voice, immediately searching out the bird he now knew was there. He swallowed softly as Darla stepped from the shadowy corner, slipping her slender fingers delicately across the shimmering glass as she moved past one of the tall vats. Her backlit appendages seemed so dark against the soft shine of the caustic fluid, making it feel as though her black soul was suddenly bared for all to see.

“Almost more beautiful than he is,” Darla said, pulling her cigarette from her bill as she turned towards the uncertain mutant across the room. “Don’t you think?”

Reggie shrugged slightly, unable to think of a proper response.

Darla chuckled slightly at the lack of answer. “Eloquent as always.”

Reggie watched her cautiously, unsure exactly what to think now that he knew her true motives, but it was hard to shake the slight feeling of loss as he watched the smoke from her cigarette frame her face and dance through the glow upon her feathers just as it had the first night he saw her. He couldn’t shake the upset feeling in his gut that was stirred up by the voice in his head telling him she was the enemy. The idea was validated almost as soon as it appeared, Reggie suddenly finding himself staring down the barrel of a 40 caliber handgun, steel shined and hammer cocked in unconcealed minacity.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to come with me darling,” Darla said, her voice slightly tender as though to say that she was almost sorry but not quite.

“Why are you doing this?” Reggie questioned softly.

Darla shrugged a single shoulder almost lazily as she dropped her expended cigarette to the ground and twisted it roughly beneath her heel. “Honestly?” she said, bringing her dark eyes to stare deeply into his. “I can’t stand this world. I hate it to its very core and I want to see it torn apart piece by retched piece.” She chuckled slightly at the mildly disgusted grimace Reggie offered in reply. “Don’t give me that look Reginald. You have no love for this world. If it wasn’t for Buddy you would have run as far away as you could.”

The way Reggie shifted his gaze away was more than enough assurance that her observation was accurate.

“You’re young Reginald. Why not let it end before you’re a vicious old bird like me?”

“Maybe he wants to be a bitter old bitch.”

Darla cocked a brow at the voice to her side, turning slightly to face the source as Jake walked slowly from the shadows. He was covered head to toe in blood, large gun in one hand while the other nearly dragged Benny behind him due to the dog’s refusal to face his lover.

“Hello boys,” Darla said with a genuine smile, well aimed weapon never leaving its mark as she turned slightly towards them. “I missed you.” The smile fell from her face when Benny refused to face her. “Don’t you love me anymore Benny?” she questioned with genuine dismay.

Woeful brown eyes finally turned to face her, Benny’s brow furrowing unhappily at the question. “Always,” he whispered.

“Then why not help me? It will be just like it was.”

Benny shook his head at the idea. “It can never be like it was,” he choked out wearily.

It looked as though Darla’s entire world crumbled beneath the weight of the response. “I don’t want to fight you Benny…. You’ve left me no choice.”

“You always had a choice Darla!” Benny immediately retorted.

“What retched justice that you and I would be forced to different sides of this feud,” she said as though she hadn’t heard him at all. “This is what we all wanted. You can’t decide halfway through that you don’t want to play the _fucking_ game anymore!”

“Fuck you Darla,” Jake snarled. “You think this is what I wanted?! My contract never said shit about selling my soul off to that asshole, and if I can’t have it back I’ll be happy to take what’s left of his as payment.”

Darla shook her head as though to deny his words held any validity. “Don’t you see it?” She said, growing more fervent as the conversation carried on. “This world is sick and it needs to be put down so we can build anew atop the remains of those who are unfit to claim presence in our utopia.” Her mounting insanity was shown through the crazed yet desperate smile on her face.

“UTOPIA?! You’re talking about hell on earth Darla! That’s the _utopia_ you want?!” Benny yelled, finally daring to inch closer to his beloved partner.

Reggie took the chance to step to the side as Darla’s attention finally waned enough for her to drop her gun slightly. The shifting at the edge of her vision immediate had her sights upon him again, gun stiffening in her hand once more in an unspoken order for him to stand still.

“That’s far enough Reggie dear,” Darla said softly. “They’ll be here any minute and I can’t let you ruin the fun by running off on me.”

As if on cue the eerie sounds of the snarling mass grew nearer, their cries sounding into the tunnels like an anthem of death. Reggie shuddered at the noise, heart pounding at the obviously close proximity of the oncoming attack.

“Shit,” Jake muttered, turning his back to Darla and aiming his gun into the darkness as the fans burst through the entryway and rushed towards them.

He continued to empty rounds into the attackers as Benny backed away and Darla turned her attention fully on Reggie once again, moving closer to keep him from trying to run despite his fear of Negaduck’s underlings.

“I won’t let you take this away from me,” Darla hissed softly as she drew uncomfortably close to the cringing bassist.

She sneered furiously as she was suddenly grabbed from behind, firing blindly at the source of the rough attack. Darla snarled as she spun around, finally yanking her attention away from Reggie as her rage mounted. Her eyes widened in horror when she found herself suddenly staring straight into the chocolate, pain filled eyes of her lover. Her breath caught in her throat with an audible choke as the growing red stain on Benny’s shirt painted a crimson picture of what she had just done. She cried out in anguish, gun falling to the ground with a clatter as she caught the suddenly limp body, cradling it close in hopes that the beat of her heart might bring his back to life. Darla shuddered pathetically as she watched Benny’s life slip away taking with him the one and only thing left that she cared about.

Reggie was frozen in place at the scene, eyes widening and body shaking in his inability to react. He suddenly felt like nothing but a shell: a flesh wrapped pile of bones with nothing truly viable to offer the world. He gripped at his heart in an attempt to ease the sudden onset of frantic breathing.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Jake yelled, “Get out of here!”

“I-I…I..” Reggie sputtered, grasping desperately at words that wouldn’t. He stumbled backwards as a second wave of Negaduck’s army slammed into Jake and pulled him to the ground, completely unable of reacting.

“Just fucking GO!” Jake yelled, cracking his fist incessantly against the diseased feline gnawing at his torso. He screamed in agony as the cat’s fierce jaw latched onto his throat, choking on his own blood and flailing against the mass of his previous fans that swarmed him, devouring his flesh like starving beasts.

Reggie’s breath sped to a fervent pitch as he watched the other duck get torn to pieces, feet carrying him shakily backwards but eyes unable to look away. He finally ripped himself from the scene, clenching his eyes shut tightly as he ran away. Just a few feet later, he was thrown to the ground as a sudden shockwave filled the tunnels, landing him face first against the hard cement in a coughing fit as he inhaled a lung full of dirt and debris. He flung himself to his back as he stared behind him at the suddenly collapsed tunnel. Apparently Jake had come armed with than just a semi-automatic. Reggie squinted harshly as he tried to force his already half-hazy vision to see through the growing cloud of dust in the air, struggling to take in the aftermath of the explosion. He could hear Darla’s cries giving proof she was still alive, but it was still hard to believe that anything could have survived. All Reggie could bring himself to do at first was marvel at the fact that in his final moments Jake that had given his life to save him. Forcing his feet to carry him deeper into the tunnel did little to help him escape the repeating thought that they were all dead no matter how fast he ran.

Reggie panted harshly as he pressed his back to one of the cold walls, gritting his teeth and trying to force his heart to slow its frantic pace. Leafy fingers pressed against his chest in a sudden need to find his too long neglected cigarettes. He groaned forlornly when he found only a crinkled and pathetic pack of decimated tobacco. His still shaking hand crushed the demolished box, the sensation of the crumpled cardboard somehow slightly satisfying despite his failure to obtain much needed nicotine from the useless package. Reggie cursed his painfully audible footsteps as he made his way warily down the darkened corridor trying his best to shake the voice in his head begging him to turn back— to run away just as he always had before. The distant murmur in the back of his head morphed into a scream as the soft sound of distant voices filtered towards him, but he pushed it away defiantly as he dared to inch closer, pausing only momentarily when the unmistakable sound of Negaduck’s gruff yell joined the barely audible words. Several feet later Reggie could see the opening that led into the main chamber, steeling his nerves to face the horror he knew lay beyond.

The familiar room painted a clear picture of disarray. The walls rumbled with the endless attack of the trees outside while metal groaned under the strain and dislodged wires sparked against the gloom. Negaduck cursed at Jack while Elmo cringed behind him pathetically, almost seeming as if he was desperate to disappear altogether. Reggie rushed to a nearby pillar, confident for the moment that the other two guitarists would keep Negaduck’s attention long enough for him to remain unseen. He listened intently for some sign that they might reveal a hint as to where Bud was, but there was nothing in their words or tone that did him any good. He growled slightly in frustration, shifting against the stone pillar in a vain hope that the slightly closer proximity might help him hear some previously concealed piece of information. Reggie immediately pulled his hand back when his rough grip caused a small stone to dislodge from the crumbling column, grimacing as it hit the ground.

The soft sound of stone on stone immediately made Negaduck spin around to scour the room with narrowed eyes. A knowing smile slipped across his face despite the fact that he couldn’t actually see the intruder he knew was there. “Hello Reggie,” he purred sadistically.

Silence met the malicious greeting, Reggie quietly willing his heart to beat softer in fear that Negaduck might hear its incessant pounding.

“I know you’re here,” Negaduck continued when Reggie refused to respond. “I have a surprise for you,” he said, finally turning his back to the rest of the room as he walked towards the control panel.

Reggie peeked his head cautiously around the pillar, observing carefully in fear that he might be spotted. He eyed Elmo and Jack cautiously before turning his attention to what their leader was doing. With a simple flip of a switch a small chamber rose from the ground forcing Reggie to put a hand to his bill to keep the slight gasp from escaping at what he saw. Inside the container was a snarling and furious yet obviously anxious Bud. He threw his water over and over against the seams of the glass prison in a fruitless attempt to free himself from its confines.

Negaduck chuckled at the display as Bud clawed even more feverishly at his approach. “Yeah he wants to tear me apart real fucking bad,” he said with a slight laugh at his captive’s futile attempts at escape.

The frantic thrashing immediately stopped when Negaduck pulled a small remote from his inner pocket causing Reggie to cock a curious brow at the way the unassuming device made Bud back away in fear. He had a feeling he knew what the thin black apparatus was for and he didn’t like it one bit.

“Do you know how to train a bad dog Reginald?” Negaduck asked softly, “You discipline it,” he growled, finger pressing one of the few buttons the device had to offer.

The reaction was immediate. Even through the mostly sound proof glass Reggie could hear the screams of pain, cringing as Bud’s entire body thrashed and his mouth parted in a horrifying cry of agony. Bud scrapped his head against the ground as he pulled deliriously at the collar encircling his neck, desperately trying to remove the source of discomfort. Reggie swallowed thickly at the fear in the other man’s eyes, his heart begging him to do something to help but his legs too afraid to move. He whimpered softly at his own cowardice as the torture ended and Bud fell to the floor in a quivering mass. 

“Not enough motivation?” Negaduck questioned as he glance around the dark room for signs of movement. “ _Fine_ ,” he said when he received no hint of a response. “Let’s up the ante shall we?” He walked up to the steel covered canister, throwing the door open now that Bud was momentarily unable to put up any sort of fight. He grabbed him roughly by the collar, shoving a small glass vial into a port on the back of the leather strip before dragging Bud roughly from the holding cell.

“NO!” Bud managed to wail before his whole body began to shake once again rendering him little more than a pathetic, quivering heap on the floor.

The yell of refusal did nothing to stop the process that had already begun. His screams were decidedly different the second time around. They were more than cries of agony; they were howls of a terror so deep that Reggie would never hear their like again no matter how long he lived. It was a horrible sight to see the normally fearless dog cower in misery as he was dragged forcefully back into a realm he had not existed in for years. Reggie’s eyes widened in shock and his hands pressed hard against his bill as he watched Bud change. The liquid layers began to fall away as bone regrew and muscles knit together like a gruesome puzzle. He never even considered that Bud’s mutation might be reversible, and he especially hadn’t considered how horrid it would be to witness. Blue eyes clamped shut momentarily in an attempt to shield him from the retched sight, but a woeful cry quickly forced him to look again to ease his concern. Reggie gasped softly at the long multicolored dread locks that had now grown, the silver at Bud’s scalp shining against the disheveled jet black tips. He cringed shamefully, unable to keep himself from visually exploring the newly exposed flesh of the other man. It was odd to see Bud in such a way: so vulnerable and bare. Bud cried out miserably at the harsh reality of his regrown flesh, causing Reggie to shudder involuntarily at the animalistic sound and glare furiously at the smirking mallard across the room.

Negaduck chuckled as Bud tried desperately to get his newly reformed muscles to function properly, grabbing the dog by the collar once again and pulling him to his knees in front of him as if to show off his triumph of science to Reggie wherever he was hiding. Bud choked pathetically at the pressure on his neck, turning pleading eyes towards Jack and Elmo. Jack turned away from the sight, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling in disapproval but saying nothing against the harsh treatment. Somewhere inside Reggie he could feel his anger growing at the dismissive response. Wasn’t Jack Bud’s friend? Wasn’t he going to do anything to help? He swallowed thickly at the thought. Wasn’t _he_ Bud’s friend? He closed his eyes tightly as the fear gripped at him again. He wanted to do something, anything, but he was too afraid and he hated himself for it.

“Rather pathetic looking isn’t he?” Negaduck questioned gruffly as he pulled a large knife from his belt. “Want to see how pathetic he _really_ is?” he said as he pulled Bud’s head back by his matted hair and pressed the weapon to his throat causing the other man to hiss slightly as the sharp edge left a small slice in his skin.

Reggie panicked at the sight of the thin red slice, staring in horror at the proof of Bud’s restored mortality. “Stop it!” he yelled, finally stumbling blindly from behind the protective slab of concrete. “Just… just don’t hurt him anymore,” he said softly as he stepped into the hazy light, hands raised slightly to show that he was unarmed.

“Heh, well look who finally grew a pair,” Negaduck chuckled, letting the weak body in his grip fall to the ground pathetically.

“ _Reggie_ ,” Bud choked, his voice raspy from his weakened vocal cords. He grunted harshly when the soft word caused Negaduck to place a heavy boot roughly on the back of his head, forcing his face to the ground.

Reggie actually snarled at the action, surprised to feel his own face suddenly supporting a furious sneer.

“ _Oh_ , don’t like that do ya?” Negaduck questioned mockingly. “Well if you want your little pretty boy here to stay intact I suggest you just shut that mouth of yours and do what I say.”

Reggie growled internally, but forced as much neutrality into his face as he could to show his compliance.

“That’s a good little bitch,” Negaduck muttered, waving his knife in a wordless demand for Jack to do his job.

The glaring jester growled wordlessly at the unspoken order as he made his way towards Reggie, grabbing the other bird by the bicep harshly in an attempt to drag him towards the pair of nearby restraints. Reggie immediately yanked his arm away from the touch, rubbing at the place where the lingering feeling of contact remained as he stormed in front of Jack towards the place where he knew he was being led in a clear message that he didn’t need to be manhandled to be forced into obedience. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew it was just a blind act of frustration on Jack’s part but he really didn’t care at that point. He was more interested in exactly how he was going to save himself this time. Reggie flinched harshly when Jack grabbed him once again, quickly forcing his wrists back into the familiar shackles he had been trapped by far too recently. He jumped in shock when the bonds immediately clamped shut when Negaduck pressed a button on the control panel, closing his eyes in an attempt to stop the flashbacks from tormenting him as he internally wished Negaduck would just devour him this time rather than forcing him to face the fire again. Quivering limbs struggled subconsciously against the cuffs in his fear. Reggie couldn’t help but notice that they seemed to have been replaced with a sturdier set since his last visit. He finally lifted his head, daring to give Jack a glare of distaste as the other mallard pulled his coat open and pressed cold probes to his skin.

Jack offered an abnormally remorseful look in return. “I really am sorry about this Reggie,” he whispered, “But as they say…. better you than me.”

Reggie knew he was really just trying to convince himself that he didn’t care, but it didn’t stop him for hating Jack for even daring to help Negaduck. The truth was that they had all been led astray by their own lack of compassion. They all hated the world and had little if any sense of remorse for the people in it. Reggie was just as bad; it just made him feel better to have just one more outlet for his hate. Jack lacked every ounce of his usual liveliness as he walked away from the bound mutant, giving only a brief glance to Negaduck to make sure the other man was still preparing for the transfer before grabbing Elmo gently and leading him towards the metal clad table nearby. He laid his companion down, wordlessly urging him into the proper position.

Elmo shifted uncomfortably as Jack gathered the nearby hoard of wires, biting his lower lip and weaving his fingers together nervously. “ _Jack_ ,” he whimpered quietly, “…I don’t wanna hurt Reggie.”

Jack stiffened at the soft edge of sadness in Elmo’s voice. He didn’t want to hurt Reggie either, but he would do anything to protect his lover. Anything. “Just… try not to think about it Mo,” he replied, gently coaxing Elmo onto his stomach so he could attach the long metal rods he was holding into his backbone.

Elmo winced slightly at the abnormally large attachments as Jack pressed them slowly into his skin, hissing softly as the ends of the spines pierced the small gaps between his vertebrae. It always did hurt when Negaduck actually forced him to assist in stealing a soul. It was his own special punishment for acting as the singer’s personal tool for domination. Elmo sighed in relief when the final spire of metal pierced the base of his skull, the thin probe slipping into its usual place and eliciting the much needed sense of comfort that it always did as a soft surge of electricity slipped deep into his brain.  

Jack stroked his hair gently, urging his friend to meet his gaze. “Don’t you let him take too much,” he whispered, “If he’s pushing you past your limit… you push back, you hear me?”

The dead serious tone only served to put Elmo more on edge but he nodded slowly to show his agreement.

Jack forced a small smile in response, burying his fingers deeper into Elmo’s hair in an attempt to calm him. “It’ll all be over soon,” he said softly into Elmo’s good ear. A chaste kiss was all the additional comfort he offered before turning to the increasingly impatient Negaduck and nodding curtly at him to signal that they were ready.

Negaduck grinned broadly in response, immediately flipping a switch and turning his attention to his still struggling captive. Reggie jumped at the sudden whirl of noise from the waking machine, cringing pathetically and pulling against his shackles as an eerily mobile cord crept towards him from above. The black wire wriggled like some living appendage, desperately seeking out his body heat so it knew where to go. Reggie screamed as the eager cord curled behind his neck and embedded itself into his spine. He hissed softly as his body tried and failed to heal around the intruder, forcing his pain filled eyes to glare at Negaduck in response to the violation. Deep inside the crimson red eyes and sadistic smile he could almost see his own death. Was this really how it was going to end? Him stripped of his soul and left as nothing but Negaduck’s personal slave? Reggie hung his head in defeat at the thought. There really was nothing left he could do.

Bud grimaced in despair at Reggie’s look of total defeat, groaning softly as he attempted once again to force his body to move. He panted heavily when the attempts proved futile, pressing his head to the ground as he struggled to catch his breath. It was as if his entire body had atrophied in the years since he had used it.

Negaduck snickered at the pathetic display, only smirking in amusement when the response caused Bud to growl weakly at him. “Don’t you go anywhere now, Bud. Wouldn’t want you to miss the show.”

He barely had time to revel in his triumph before a sharp bang made him tilt his head towards the only entrance the main room had, red eyes narrowing at the muted sound. He immediately grabbed Bud by the collar, yanking him roughly and causing him to cough desperately as his airway was abused once again. Negaduck pulled a gun from the back of his belt, pressing it to Bud’s temple and waiting with baited breath for the assault he knew was coming. Sure enough he was soon staring down the one eyed mallard and his companion as they entered through the layer of dust left in the tunnel by their attempts to clear the previously blocked path.

Negaduck forced a smile onto his face despite his annoyance at the sight of his uninvited doppelganger, cocking his gun in an audible dare for Drake to come closer. “Hi hunny,” he purred sadistically, “Did you miss me?”

Drake stopped in his tracks at the unspoken threat he was suddenly facing. Negaduck would kill Bud if he didn’t comply with his wishes and that wasn’t something Drake was willing to be responsible for. He dropped his weapon wordlessly, signaling Launchpad to do the same. His sidekick growled at the inconvenience but laid his weapons down despite the disapproval.

“Good boy,” Negaduck hissed.

“Let him go Negaduck,” Drake said darkly. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

Negaduck threw Bud to the side laughing slightly at the way he grunted in pain, but paying little attention to him as he struggled to crawl away. “I’m not so sure you can,” he said, “You see, all I want is for you to fuck off and die.”

Drake scowled at the response. “Likewise,” he hissed.

Negaduck appeared oddly smug at the retort, unable to resist moving closer as the need to face his other half grew. “I’m tired of being trapped by you,” he growled, “For decades I was the part of you held back behind grit teeth and a superiority complex. The part of you that wanted to rule the world, reject your kin and curse that woman for the heartless, temperamental _witch_ she was.”

“I NEVER thought Morgana was heartless!” Drake snarled, body stiffening and teeth baring at Negaduck’s increase in proximity.

Negaduck huffed at the retort. “Well, you thought she was a temperamental bitch anyway,” he said nonchalantly. “I know. I was that part of you. That’s why I put her out of our misery.” He smiled at the suddenly livid look on Drake’s face, unable to resist prodding the wound a little more. “At least she was a good fuck.”

Drake could no longer contain his fury at the final words, launching himself at Negaduck in his inability to control his rage. He took a high-caliber round to the face in return, the impact of the bullet against his cheek throwing him backwards as Launchpad rushed towards him. Drake groaned as he clutched the wound and spat out a mixture of shrapnel and small bits of teeth, barely able to glare at his lookalike through the pain in his head.  

Negaduck cackled loudly at the resulting scene as Drake bared his slightly chipped and bloodied teeth at him. “This really is a fitting end you know,” he laughed, slipping slightly closer as Launchpad lifted Drake back to his feet. “Crushed by the weight of your own hubris.”

He received only a glare in response as Drake tried subtly to push Launchpad away, internally begging the other man to take the hint and back off as Negaduck’s current intentions became clear.

Launchpad was unfazed by the implicit threat, growling gutturally at the weapon that had set its sights upon him. “I’m not fucking scared of you,” he snarled.

Negaduck laughed at the retort. “No, you never have been, have you? Even when I was still stuck with that pathetic thing you call a friend you weren’t afraid of me. You’re too stupid to be afraid.” He grinned evilly, turning his attention to Drake to relish in the horror on his lookalike’s face. “But you’ll be just as dead.”

“Stop trying to fuck with my head!” Drake snarled, perfectly aware his malicious twin was only going after Launchpad to get under his skin.

“Oh, your head was fucked way before I got there,” Negaduck snorted.

Drake scoffed in displeasure at the insult, but was internally thankful that his outburst seemed to suspend the intended attack on his best friend for the time being, distracting Negaduck long enough for the distant sound of more of his followers to fill the space. He craned his ear towards the muffled cries, smirking at the delightful noise of his obedient army as the wave of red-eyed underlings rushed into the room like a single black form. They immediately rushed towards Drake and Launchpad in response to the unspoken orders from their leader, clinging to their limbs and snarling in their ears.

Negaduck laughed at the disgusted look Drake produced at the random strands of drool tainting his coat, thoroughly pleased at the way his uptight lookalike cringed at the disgusting slobber. “As _fun_ as this has been, I think it’s about time we got on with it, don’t you?” he grinned at the way his feral fans salivated profusely at the idea. “My pets are hungry.”

Almost as soon as Negaduck turned away he stopped in his tracks, tipping his head up when he registered the unusual quiet. He cocked a brow at the sudden silence, more disturbed by the lack of attack than he was by the threat of the trees outside. There was no way his army could have just suddenly stopped all the plants at once. He closed his eyes, searching his massive communal mind in search of their vision, hunting out what their eyes could see that might explain the sudden ceasefire.

Negaduck’s brow furrowed at the oddly stagnant trees, confused by the way they seemed to be backing slowly away from the building. “Why?” he growled. “What’s wrong with you?”

Red eyes shot open at the sudden sight of the barely stable craft barreling towards them, unable to even curse the flying menace before it crashed roughly into one of the weak spots that the trees had created in the hull of the building. The entire mob below cringed and shouted beneath the assault of fire and raining bits of iron, crying out as Gosalyn immediately stretched out of the barely intact cockpit of the Thunderquack and fired a barrage of modified arrows at them. The first projectile detonated into the heart of the mass, her swift fingers soon working to fire non-explosive arrows at the few fans still clinging to her caregivers.

Negaduck yelled furiously as Gosalyn dodged the rounds he shot at her, throwing his gun to the side when it clicked out a reminder that he was out of ammo. “Little BITCH!” he roared, rushing away from the slaughter and towards the control panel. “I’ll never let you win,” he snarled as he thrust the large lever up as far as it would go affectively doubling the strain on Elmo in an attempt to store as much energy as possible before he was no longer able.

Elmo cried out at the sudden surge, his entire body burning as it struggled to meet the sudden increase in demand. His back arched painfully and his body twisted as he thrashed and tried desperately to rip the wires from his searing skin. Jack ran to his side, immediately falling to his knees when the attempt to aid the seizing rodent sent an intolerable amount of electricity into his system. He gasped and clutched at his racing heart as he willed the tremors to calm enough for him to function again. Frantic eyes sought out the demented mallard still flipping switches and trying frantically to extract Reggie’s soul before he no longer could.

Jack grit his teeth at the sight, rushing toward Negaduck and screaming at him incoherently as he ran. “STOP IT!” he yelled, latching onto Negaduck’s coat and yanking him away from the control panel. “You’re gonna fucking kill him!”

Negaduck spun around with a tangible force, lashing out immediately and striking Jack hard enough in the jaw to make him fall backwards from the force. “You think I CARE?!” he roared as he advanced on Jack. “You’ve been nothing but a god damn thorn in my side ever since we started this shit!” Negaduck yelled, slamming his heavy boot into Jack’s gut and sneering as the other man hacked and struggled to catch his breath. “I’ve never met _anything_ more repulsive than you in my life, and quite frankly it sickens me to even think we’re part of the same species! I would have killed you years ago if it wasn’t for the fact that I needed you here to keep Sparks around. This is the only thing in the world that piece of shit is good for, and I will NOT let you stand in my way!” Negaduck ended the rant with a final kick to the underside of Jack’s face, turning away as the other spat a repellent mix of saliva and blood onto the ground.

Jack’s eyes narrowed in fury at the retreating duck, glancing to the side as his own forgotten guitar caught his attention. The sudden thought it his head was horrid, but it was the only thing he could think of to do. With a final glance to his still screaming and thrashing friend, he quickly forced himself to his feet and ran to grab the scythe-shaped instrument. He sprinted towards Negaduck, his furious scream quickly causing red eyes to focus on him once again. Only a brief aching of his heart gave evidence of Jack’s hesitation, the horrid thought that he was about to destroy his most cherished gift from his most cherished friend not slowing his actions in the slightest. It didn’t stop his heart from breaking as the guitar smashed against the other bird’s face, the bridge cracking and the cords snapping in a horrid, metallic death cry. Jack let out a brief choked sob as he watched the guitar shatter, immediately dropping what was left of the instrument and rushing over to the controls.

Negaduck gave out a deranged yell as he clutched at the now exacerbated crack in his bill, turning his swaying vision towards Jack as he struggled to his feet and did his best to ignore his now almost unbearable headache. The first step found him back on the ground, unable to remain standing through the excess of pain in his skull. He let out a feral cry as he watched Jack frantically pull the restraining wires from Elmo body and lift him into his arms. Negaduck could feel his fury build as he watched Jack and his still convulsing cargo rush from the room. He rushed back to the control panel, frantically pressing buttons and flipping switches as he tried to conserve every ounce of energy he had leeched from Elmo.

“Just stop,” Drake said from behind him causing Negaduck to flip around to face the shotgun that was now aimed right at him. “You can’t win without him.”

Negaduck smiled toothily at the empty threat, insanity spilling over through the malicious grin as though it was all that was left keeping him alive. “I’ll never stop until I destroy every last little piece of you,” he hissed softly.

The softly spoken sentiment was immediately followed by the harsh impact of a large bird against Drake’s side causing him to grunt at the unexpected attack as the other avian plowed into him. Negaduck’s grin extended as he watched his other half struggle with the snarling avian, flicking his finger against the large knife he had pulled from his belt and almost salivating at the feel of the cool steel beneath his fingers. In an instant his face fell, a disturbing image flashing through his mind as one of his servants took in the sight of Bud now situated at the other end of the room poised to make Negaduck’s life a whole lot worse. In the time that it had taken him to deal with everything else he had completely forgotten about the debilitated dog. He had subconsciously assumed that there was no way he would even be able to move that far let alone lift himself up to the controls, but he was now facing the possibility head on and there was little he could do to stop Bud from freeing Reggie from his bonds.

“Don’t you fucking DARE!” Negaduck roared.

Bud paused only a moment to glare across the room at him. Silently mouthing exactly what Negaduck could do to himself.

Negaduck snarled furiously at the implied fuck you suddenly flinging the knife in his hands across the room where it embedded in Bud’s back. Bud cried out at the sudden impact, but it did nothing to stop his actions as he pulled the release causing Reggie to fall to the ground in shock as his bonds opened and the disturbing probe slipped from the back of his neck. A slight throb remained from the metal intruder, but Reggie paid it little mind, immediately searching out the injured dog nearby. Blue eyes widened at the sight of Bud dragging himself on the ground and trying to yank the knife from his back. Reggie’s entire body shook at the blood pouring from the wound, panicking when he saw Negaduck storming furiously towards the injured mammal.

“You’re going to _really_ wish you hadn’t done that,” Negaduck hissed shoving the large gun he had collected from one of the many corpses into Bud’s face.

Reggie panted heavily, the world around him almost seeming to mute itself as he panicked internally. _No._ His head cried as his feet forced him to a run. _NO. He’s mine!_ “YOU CAN’T HAVE HIM!” he roared, baring vicious teeth as his body elongated bizarrely so he could run on all fours like some feral beast.

The increased pace of Reggie’s new quadrupedal stature gave Negaduck next to no time to react to the furious declaration beyond a shocked stare and a single word.  “Shit,” he muttered. 

The barely audible curse was soon followed by the furious impact of Reggie’s arms, both limbs splitting in two and hardening like vicious thorns so they could slice through Negaduck’s flesh and throw him against the nearby wall behind him.

Negaduck grunted slightly as the mutated extremities quickly slipped from his body leaving behind sickly open wounds that strained to heal through his fatigue. “ _Owww_ ,” he groaned, “That really fucking _hurt_!”

The furious tone did nothing to gain Reggie’s attention, but it certainly made Negaduck feel better. He planted heavily, gripping at the large hole beside his heart as he struggled to his feet and advanced on the once again quivering mallard who was now curled around the bleeding dog in his arms, face buried in Bud’s neck and breath coming out in near hysterical pants as he did everything in his power to keep from breaking down completely. There was nothing to stop Negaduck from simply slaughtering him now; the sporadic electricity that was now filling the entire chamber was more than enough to collect his soul regardless of where he was when Negaduck killed him.

The crazed mallard grunted softly as a whispered voice of desperation filled his mind, cracking his neck and almost stumbling towards his former bandmates as he gave into the fervent entity in his head.

_Kill him._ It cried. _Kill kill kill kill! Make us whole, make them suffer!_

Just as Negaduck lifted his gun to do just that, his shoulder was suddenly speared by a grappling hook, the recoiling cord yanking him backwards and away from his target. He cried out in fury, gnawing insanely at his own arm like an animal attempting to free itself from a trap. He was barely able to struggle to his feet so he could yank the heavy spines from his skin as he turned livid red eyes on the heavily panting and slightly bloodied mallard behind him. The sight of Drake made his blood boil. There was nothing left but his fury at the part he hated most about himself , the piece of his own soul that he had been so desperately trying to escape, and destroying him was the only thing left he cared about. Negaduck launched himself at the other man despite the voice in his head commanding him to go after Reggie instead. He no longer even cared about merging with the other being. All that remained in his head was the desire to rid the world of Darkwing Duck: the insatiable need to attack his own shadow.

Somewhere in the back of Bud’s mind he could tell there was a furious battle raging all around them, and yet all he could seem to hear was the fervent beating of Reggie’s heart. The world had fallen away and all that remained was the euphoric feeling of being cradled in the vine-like arms. If this was to be his last moment in life it had been worth living for.

“Reggie,” Bud choked out softly, bringing a shaky hand up when the other man didn’t answer immediately. “Reggie,” he repeated, raising his voice as much as he was capable of in his weakened state.

“ _No_ ,” Reggie responded simply, burying his face deeper into Bud’s short fur and muffling the single word in the process.

He didn’t want to face the world. He didn’t want to see Bud’s tired eyes or blood stained body. He couldn’t face the fact that he was in the exact same situation he had been in six years ago. His mind kept trying to tell him that if he just closed his eyes he could will it all to go away: to force Bud back into his invincible shell so everything would be ok. The feeling of gentle fingers twining tenderly into his hair quickly made it impossible to ignore the fact that Bud was not what he used to be. The gentle stream, the tingling heat, every bit of the touch that made it uniquely Bud was completely gone, replaced by the foreign sensation of some other creature.  

“Reggie… please listen to me,” Bud said weakly, using as much strength as he could manage to coax Reggie’s head to lift.

Reggie finally forced himself to face reality, shaking fiercely and cringing at the sounds of the screams filling the room and the machine collapsing around them.

Bud’s heart ached at the watering eyes and terrified expression, forcing himself to take in a deep breath to continue. “You,” he swallowed thickly around the pain, forcing the grimace off his face in an attempt to keep Reggie calm. “You ha-h..have to end this,” he said through his heavy pants.

Reggie clenched his eyes shut at the command, shaking his head roughly back and forth and jumping slightly at the harsh zap of a large live wire that fell beside them. “I won’t leave you,” he whispered.

Bud couldn’t help but smile wearily at the soft but genuine words. “At least I lived long enough to hear that,” he said with a gentle laugh. “Look,” he said, serious tone taking over as he did his best to gesture towards the two fury-filled mallards still trying their best to take chunks out of each other.

Reggie turned shakily towards the scene, pulling his eyes away immediately when Drake slashed at Negaduck’s throat.

“He’s doing everything he can to keep Negaduck close,” Bud continued softly, “You have to join them back together,” he coughed roughly at the sudden rush of blood that filled his slowly collapsing lung, groaning pitifully at the stab of pain that resulted. He panted harshly, gripping Reggie’s arm as he gasped desperately for enough air to continue. “Th-there’s a-,” he swallowed roughly, “There’s a sort of failsafe on the back of the machine that will join them back together. It’s a huge fucking lever so you’ll know it when you see it, but you have to time it right. If they aren’t close enough together it won’t work.” His pale blue eyes stared deep into Reggie’s searching desperately for some confirmation that the other man had heard what he said.

Reggie was red-eyed and shaking but he nodded nonetheless, still unwilling to let go of the weak body in his arms despite the show of acknowledgment.

Bud winced slightly at the response, using every ounce of energy he had left to push Reggie away, forcing him from the false sense of security that the embrace had offered. “ _Go_ ,” he said through clenched teeth, doing his best to keep a majority of the pain at bay to provide at least a halfway convincing picture that he was in better shape than he actually was. Despite the discomfort he managed a genuine smile at the concerned look Reggie gave him. “I’ll be here when you get back,” he said softly.

Reggie swallowed at the comment, clenching his eyes shut as he pushed himself to his feet and took off at a sprint towards the console. _You better be,_ he thought to himself.

Bud panted heavily as he watched Reggie depart, laying his head wearily on the ground as the last of his strength slipped away. “I love you,” he whispered, body lying limp and eyes slipping shut as he prayed silently that Reggie might hear the weak goodbye.

Reggie was wholly oblivious to the scene as he rushed past mangled bodies and twisted metal, breathing heavily and yanking his leg from the hands of dying metal fans that tried to catch him as he passed. As promised, the so-called failsafe on the back of the machine was hard to miss. Reggie immediately latched onto the large lever and gripped it roughly in his anxiety. He cursed internally at the way Negaduck continually jumped away from Drake as the other man tried to get closer, obviously aware of his intentions to join them back together. His heart pounded faster when he saw Gosalyn waiting on a small mound of rubble, arrow poised to strike Negaduck in the back. The arrow let loose with the faint sound of metal on wire, the projectile striking Negaduck in the spine just as Drake raised from his knees causing the abnormally long arrow to go straight through one mallard and into the other. Gosalyn wailed in horror at the sight of Drake choking on the arrow tip now lodged in his throat, whimpering at what she had done as she watched Negaduck yank the bolt from his chest causing her father to cry out in pain and hold his bleeding neck as a thick crimson stream poured from the wound.

Launchpad immediately ran to her, breaking jaws and pounding metal fans with a thick metal beam he had pulled from the rubble. He grabbed her just in time to pull her away from yet another soulless underling as he slammed the steel girder into the dog’s face, pulling her against his chest to shield her eyes as she began to sob. “It’s okay love,” he whispered, “You did good.” A frantic glance at Reggie found the mutant mallard frozen in place, eyes widened at the scene before him. “Just fucking do it Reggie!” Launchpad screamed.

The desperate order yanked Reggie from his freeze, making him jump slightly before pulling with all his might to force the heavy, slightly rusted lever to move as Drake latched onto his other half to keep Negaduck from moving away again. Reggie fell to the ground at the force of the shockwave, clamping his hands over his ears as a furious shriek filled the room, unable to face the sound of the desperate, dying spirit that rushed towards Drake and Negaduck as they began to meld together.

Gosalyn pulled her head from Launchpad’s jacket as the screech met her ears, watching with wide eyes as her father was engulfed in light. His scream immediately had her running towards him, Launchpad barely able to keep up with the way she moved deftly through the rubble littering the ground.

“Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die,” Gosalyn cried helplessly as she ran, reaching the slightly raised platform just in time to catch her once again whole father as he fell. “Please don’t die,” she cried, holding the exhausted body in her lap as she waited for her beloved parent to open his eye once again.

Launchpad was soon at her side, pulling Drake’s only eye open in an attempt to assess his condition. He swallowed nervously at the state of his dearest friend. Negaduck was gone in spirit but his scars certainly remained, leaving behind a physical manifestation to remind them all that in essence he had been Drake all along. The clothes were Drake’s, and the eye, and the angry scar across his neck, but he had gained a broken beak, angry wounds where vine had met flesh, and the other half of his soul. Launchpad could feel his eyes tearing up as the minutes stretched on with no indication that Drake was ever going to wake up. He tried desperately to ignore Gosalyn’s hysterical wails as he continued to watch diligently, silently willing Drake to get up. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest when a soft groan sounded into the room, giving out an elated yell when he saw the single weary eye open.

“You’re alive!” Launchpad cried, pulling the weak duck into his arms without even thinking about Drake’s wounds. “You beautiful son of a bitch, you’re alive!” He quickly released the struggling body with a sheepish smile when Drake began to pound on his chest in a silent request to be let go.

“Ow, ow, ow,” Drake groaned, sitting up as best he could as Gosalyn steadied him.

“ _Oh, Dad_ ,” Gosalyn sobbed happily, unable to keep herself from hugging him gently.

“How you feeling DW?” Launchpad asked with a genuinely concerned look as he inspected Drake’s newly cumulative injuries.

“Oh… you know,” Drake said weakly, “Kinda like I just beat the shit out of myself.”

Launchpad chuckled at the observation. “Yeah, well ya kinda did.”

Drake moaned softly, rubbing at his sore head just to make sure it was still in one piece. He scoffed as his fingers slipped across the large crack in his bill. “Well that’s just fucking great,” he mumbled, “I might have thought twice before slamming his face into that cinderblock if I knew I was gonna end up with this damn thing.”

“No you wouldn’t have,” Launchpad said with a slight snicker.

“Yeah… you’re probably right,” Drake replied, groaning louder as he attempted to stand.

Launchpad immediately shifted to help grabbing Drake by the shoulder and pulling him close to keep his unsteady companion upright. Drake panted deeply as he attempted to control his own shaking legs, finally looking around to take in the extent of the damage that had been done. Without Negaduck’s life force to hold them together, his once loyal fans lay dying in the dirt, red eyes slipping away and souls disintegrating into dust.

Drake winced slightly at the display. “What a fucking mess,” he muttered. It took a moment to register in his battle fatigued mind that they were missing a very important detail but once it did he stiffened in fear, flipping his head back and forth in a desperate search. “What happened to Reggie and Bud?” he questioned anxiously.

Gosalyn and Launchpad shared a confused look. They had been so worried about what would happen to Drake that they didn’t even consider where the others had gone.

“We have to find them,” Drake said, hissing at the ache produced when he tried to move, “ _This is all my fault_.”

“Just take it easy Drake,” Launchpad said as he tried to steady the barely lucid bird. “We’ll find them.”

They wouldn’t have far to look as there was only one place Reggie could think of to go. He hadn’t waited to see the result of the joining, rushing desperately back to the weakened body he had left behind. He didn’t even bother to try and wake Bud, pulling him quickly into his arms and rushing off to the only thing he could think of that could possibly help. He ran for all he was worth, panting heavily from the exertion of carrying the larger man as he forced himself deeper into the decimated tunnels. Despite the effort, Reggie knew it was already too late. There was nothing left of the bubbly mammal: no hint of his genuine and affectionate nature left in the empty shell.

Bud was gone.

Every ounce of Reggie’s pain and sorrow was poured into the single agonizing sob that sounded as he ran. His feet hurried their pace at the thought, his body determined to prove the reality of the situation wrong. Reggie was forced to slow when he encountered the previously collapsed portion of the passageway, moving as carefully but swiftly as possible through the debris that Drake and Launchpad had already mostly cleared. He ignored the skip in his heartbeat that the slight groaning of the unstable tunnel caused. The soft sound of whispered words stopped him in his tracks, blue eyes falling on the beautiful bird still huddled in the room, Benny’s body in her arms and soft smile on her lips as though she was having a normal conversation with him. Darla wasn’t even aware he was there at all. He stiffened instinctively at the sight of her, form bristling and teeth baring at the possible source of attack. Reggie eyed her cautiously but continued on when it became obvious that she had no intention of doing anything to hinder him anymore.

He didn’t even bother to climb the stairs at the back of the main vat, stretching his body and stepping over the rail so he could gain access more quickly. Reggie fell to his knees in front of the churning fluid, immediately lowering Bud’s lifeless body into the oddly agitated pool. He ripped his arm back with a scream as the soft splash of fluid burned his skin. The painfully blistered but already healing flesh was quickly forgotten as Reggie leaned anxiously over the vat, eyes watering as he watched Bud’s body disintegrate disturbingly: flesh and bone painting the liquid red as it swirled away into nothing. The seconds crept by at an agonizing pace, Reggie’s barely held back cries slowly threatening to surface as the drummer showed no signs of reviving.

“God DAMN you Bud!” Reggie yelled, a pitiful cry forcing its way out as he tried to continue. “You can’t just make me care about you and then fucking _LEAVE ME_!”

It was all he could manage before he broke down completely, eyes watering and sobs wracking his body. He slumped in defeat, fingers clenching painfully onto the edge of the container as he cried softly.

“I love you,” he whispered, a few sorrow filled tears finally slipping down his cheeks.

The gleaming droplets stopped only a moment to cling to his chin before dripping softly into the golden fluid. The gentle drips were all that seemed to pierce Reggie’s mind despite the soft sounds of chaos still surrounding him. He lifted himself onto unsteady feet, face falling into a dead expression despite his still teary eyes. A quick glance to the still slightly swollen skin on his arm steeled his nerves for what he was about to do. Wooden talons rested on the very edge of the vat, Reggie staring deep into its depths as though it would help him make the leap more easily if he could just see where Bud had gone. He closed his eyes, a final tear slipping down his face as he leaned slightly forward. As though in protest, the fluid suddenly began to thrash wildly causing Reggie to stagger backwards in shock as the liquid screeched furiously at him. He put both hands to his face as though it would shield him from the watery wrath as the suddenly cognizant fluid surged towards him. In the end he couldn’t face his own demise.

But the end never came.  

Reggie finally shifted his slim arms, daring to peak past them at the twirling water in front of him. His breath was literally stolen as the dancing liquid twisted back into the familiar figure that made his heart stop. It was more than Reggie’s mind could process; he stared dumbfounded as Bud clung unsteadily to him, his body heaving heavily as he tried to regain his strength. It was as though his body was trying desperately to readjust to no longer needing to breath.

“ _You_.. you said it,” Bud managed to pant out, slight laugh echoing in his voice. “Can’t… take it.. back,” he paused to try and compose himself, soon laughing with joy. “You’re fucking STUCK with me now!”

Bud finally managed to stand well enough on his own to properly take in the sight of the still teary-eyed and now gaping mallard in front of him. Worry suddenly filled him. Just as he was about to try and comfort the obviously traumatized mallard he was suddenly pressed against him, Reggie bridging the space between them so suddenly he hardly had time to register it. His eyes widened at the desperate kiss, the azure irises quickly slipping closed as he wrapped the other tightly in his arms. Bud’s grip increased when Reggie buried his fingers deep in his dreadlocks, clutching them desperately as though Bud might disappear again if he eased his grip even slightly

The tattered trio that had just entered all stared dumbfounded at the scene, but only Gosalyn managed a response through the shock of finding both of them alive and obviously well.

“Alright _Reggie_ , get some!” she cheered, receiving a halfhearted slap to the back of her head in response.

“Alright, that’s enough fun for one day,” Drake muttered, putting his hand back to his head as his daughter glared lightly at him. “I would very much like to go to a hospital now.”

Launchpad chuckled at the request, holding Drake tighter as Gosalyn slipped under his free arm so that he didn’t have to struggle so much to stay standing.

“What’s so funny?” Drake mumbled with a sideways glance to his friend.

“Nothin’,” Launchpad said, grin only extending as he gave one last glance over his shoulder. “I just love happy endings.”

Drake couldn’t help but smile slightly at the observation. “Yeah,” he said softly, “Me too.”

Drake blinked in confusion at the sight of Darla kneeling nearby. He had seen her there earlier when they cleared the tunnel, but he hadn’t expected that she would still be around and as she turned her soulless eyes upon him he could still barely believe she was there at all. Drake swallowed at the expression, unsure exactly how he should react to her presence. “It’s over Darla,” he said softly, feeling the need to coax her into some sort of action.

Darla laughed darkly at the remark. “It will never be over,” she whispered. With one final glance to her beloved partner she lifted herself to her feet, walking gracefully over to Drake.

Gosalyn immediately aimed the firearm she had taken from her father at the approaching duck, stiffening at the possible threat to her parent’s life. Drake put out a hand to calm her, watching to make sure she lowered the weapon as Darla approached. Feathered fingers slid smoothly along his chin, lifting his head slightly as she leaned down to leave a gentle kiss on the angry crack in his bill.

“Goodbye dearest Negaduck,” she whispered. “It’s been fun.”

With the final departing words she slunk slowly into the darkened tunnels, disappearing further into the depths of the crumbling machine.

“Come on,” Drake said softly, “Let’s get out of here.”

“What about Reggie and Bud?” Gosalyn asked.

“Don’t worry about them. They can take care of each other.”

Their departing footsteps went unnoticed by the still embracing couple, Reggie far too engulfed in the experience of Bud’s watery skin to even register the others had been there at all. He took in the sensation greedily, rubbing his hands through Bud’s flowing locks and down to his neck. Bud grabbed the leaves suddenly, stopping them in their tracks when he noticed the unexpected feeling. Reggie panted as the kiss was abruptly broken, tensing slightly at the oddly shocked and anxious expression on Bud’s face as he slowly shifted his own fingers to investigate his fluid neck. The sensation that greeted him was one of the most amazing things he had ever felt.

The collar was gone.

“It’s gone,” Bud whispered, disbelief still clouding his mind. “It’s _gone_!” he repeated with an overjoyed laugh, pulling Reggie into his arms and twirling him around amusingly in his excitement. “It’s gone, it’s gone, it’s gone, it’s fucking GONE!”

Reggie clung to the euphoric dog to keep from slipping, but he couldn’t help but giggle somewhat at the way Bud almost sung the repeated words. Bud stopped abruptly when he was finally able to register that he had just lifted his companion off his roots and was now swirling around with him ridiculously. He set Reggie back down with a slight chuckle, his cheeks bubbling softly in his equivalent of a light blush. The sight that greeted him nearly made his wet heart stop. Love-filled eyes peered through strands of lavender foliage as Reggie smiled softly, but genuinely at him. Bud had said it before and he’d say it again: smiles were gorgeous on Reggie.

Bud barely knew how to react to the overwhelmingly beautiful sight at first, the uninhibited show of affection holding his mind captive with its beauty. He beamed at the still smiling mallard, cupping Reggie’s cheeks in his hands as he moved closer. He paused a moment to stare deep into the mismatched eyes, reveling in the way Reggie stared back into his. This time Bud pulled him into the kiss, euphoria overcoming him at the way Reggie not only accepted the affection but reciprocated it. There was nothing left between them to sway his feelings: not fear or insecurity or even the threat of destruction. Bud pressed his forehead to Reggie’s, pulling both leafy hands into his and twining them deeply between his fingers. Reggie sighed contently, daring to let another smile slip across his face at the tender contact. Not chaos or darkness or even crazed soul-sucking ducks could take this feeling away from him and as they breached the passage way into the waning sun he could see beauty in the fiery glow for the first time.

Reggie paused in his tracks, looking over the destroyed city as what was left of his leafy defense force walked slowly towards the horizon. “Thank you,” he whispered, shuddering happily at the way their tender voices filled his head with clear cries of joy and comfort.

Reggie glanced to his side, face flushing suddenly at the beautiful picture that met his gaze. Bud had craned his neck into the wind, fluid hair blowing slightly in the breeze and he closed his eyes and smiled at the faint feeling of the soft current it created in his body. The orange light painted his aqueous skin with shining bits of crimson fire all dancing around inside him like a private fireworks display just for Reggie’s viewing pleasure. In all his life Reggie had never seen anything so beautiful. He flushed deeper when Bud cocked an eye at him as if to silently say that he knew he was watching him. The slight embarrassment didn’t stop the lopsided grin from slipping across Reggie’s face as Bud smiled giddily back at him. Fluid fingers took his gently as Bud began to lead him away from the crumbling tower behind them. Reggie had no intention of ever looking back. All at once he had all he ever needed all in the form of liquid touch and a bubbly smile. He had all he needed.

And there was no way he was ever going to let it go.


	14. The End

Everything was so mockingly quiet. That’s why his gasps sounded so loud—or so Reggie told himself. His leafy fingers gripped at the exposed grain of the coarse floor tightly as though it might help him cling to reality just a little bit more despite the way the digits were quivering pathetically from the strain. Reggie groaned at the oddly pleasurable scent of fluid leaking into the boards beneath him, captivated by the alluring smell of water soaking into wood. The earthy fragrance was somehow too much, making his back arch into the figure behind him as his body trembled and his bill moaned. Reggie dropped himself back to the floor, his heavy pants sending minute waves through the thin film of water that refused to sink into the saturated floorboards.

It had been several months since Negaduck’s empire had fallen and Reggie had somehow grown quite used to the dilapidated apartment he and Bud had been residing in as his wounds healed and the Audubon Bay _Bridge was rebuilt. Actually, he more or less refused to leave the confines of the crumbling walls as he waited patiently for the day they would be free of the all too unsettling city._

 _Reggie ran a shaky hand through the now soaked petals on his head, breathing out a contented sigh as he felt the full weight of Bud’s body resting on his back._ “I should have known better than to accept a perfectly _innocent_ backrub from you,” he mumbled.

Bud grinned smugly at the all too true observation. “Hey, it relaxed you didn’t it?”  

The retort received a halfhearted grumble but Reggie did little more as he took a moment to bask in the afterglow. He hadn’t really been all that sore; he was just restless and almost at the point that he was ready to swim his way out of St. Canard if they didn’t get the trains up and running soon. Coaxing Bud into an affectionate display was one of the few enjoyable diversions he could get. Not that he would ever admit that he was tempting the water-dog on purpose.

A soft honk shattered the quiet moment, the abrasive noise quickly repeating itself when neither occupant of the small apartment gave it any acknowledgement. Bud swore under his breath as he begrudgingly tore himself away from the tantalizing warmth of Reggie’s body so he could properly curse the source of the intrusion.

Reggie lifted a heavy eyelid to observe the other man as he stretched his head out the open window. “Da fuck’s that?” he asked groggily.

“Visitors,” Bud replied with a backwards glance at his still prone partner.

Reggie groaned grumpily as he forced his contently resting body to join Bud at the window, rubbing at his impaired eye in what had become a habitually vain attempt to remove the inconvenient haze. His neutral expression said nothing about his true feelings as he gave a brief wave in return to Gosalyn’s excited flailing, but the same could not be said of his reaction to the sight of her father. Reggie swallowed thickly as Drake climbed sluggishly from the back of the decrepit vehicle they had somehow managed to piece together enough to give them conveyance. To say the other bird looked like hell would be a gross understatement. He was almost entirely covered in scars since he had been reunited with his other half; his bill was broken, his eye bloodshot and his demeanor slouched as proof of his obvious exhaustion. Reggie suspected he had probably allowed himself very little time to rest since the rebuild of St. Canard had begun. The thought pulled his eyes toward the still decimated city. It was now more a pile of rubble than a true metropolis, and outside of the rebuilt bridge and train tracks there was little to show that the few remaining residents had done anything at all. Only the fresh and flourishing forest at the edge of the city appeared to benefit from Negaduck’s downfall.  

“What do you want?” Bud called down to the trio, effectively pulling Reggie’s attention back to Drake and his family.

“For you two to get your lazy asses down here!” Drake snarled.

“Is it just me or is he even more ornery now than he was before?” Reggie muttered.

Bud chuckled at the observation. “Well they were both pretty fucking cantankerous so I guess he’s just _twice_ the asshole now.”

“… that even possible?”

Drake’s brow twitched as the two mutants continued to mock him quietly amongst themselves, irrepressibly annoyed by their scornful smiles and dismissal of his demand. “I’m having a shitty fucking day so get down here or I-”

He was cut off abruptly by the rough grip of Launchpad’s hand against his bill, causing him to flail angrily at the appendage as Launchpad took the moment of silence to address Reggie and Bud.

“Look, we just need a favor,” Launchpad said.

“No more favors!” Reggie immediately yelled back, his obvious desperation to vacate the city written clearly in his tone. “Just get me out of this hell hole!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Drake replied as he finally swatted Launchpad’s hand from his mouth,“ The bridge is finished and one of the trains is operational so you can fucking leave. We just thought… maybe you’d do one thing for us before you go.”

“Depends on what it is,” Bud answered before Reggie could speak the decisive no that was obviously about to come from his beak.

Drake growled loudly at the retort. “Come _down_ here and we’ll tell you!” he roared.

Bud rolled his eyes at the other man’s impatience. “Fine, we’ll be right down.”

Reggie gripped under his breath at the displeasing notion as he turned away from the window and went to collect the only two possessions he had, pulling his coat around his body and his guitar onto his back. He turned to find Bud beaming at him in the same way a school girl might stare dreamily at a crush.

“What?” Reggie muttered awkwardly.

Bud chortled wetly at the question. “Nothing,” he replied softly, “Come on babe, let’s go greet the boss man before he busts a vessel.”

Reggie narrowed his eyes at the reply as he moved to join his companion. “Do you _have_ to call me that?” he asked.

“Of course I do. You’re my boyfriend.”

The revised title made Reggie flush. “Do you have to call me _that_?” he grumbled.

The awkward question made Bud pause in his tracks, spinning around so that he was muzzle to beak with a suddenly wide eyed Reggie. “ _Absolutely_ ,” he purred.

Reggie glared halfheartedly at the flirty wink he received to emphasize Bud’s point, but before he had a chance to reply to the supposedly necessary banter he found himself with wet fingers clasped in his hand as he was pulled towards the door. He blushed deeper at the contact, but was unable to keep the half smile off his face as his heart skipped a beat and his pace wavered slightly. He still wasn’t quite used to Bud insisting on holding his hand everywhere they went, but he was quickly finding he enjoyed the ritual. It was as if the watery canine was just making sure that he wouldn’t go anywhere. Reggie gripped the flowing digits tighter at the notion as they made their way down the creaking stairs and into the sunny afternoon.

For a moment the soft cries of delight from the distant trees were enough to put a soft smile on Reggie’s face, but it slipped away as soon as he turned to regard the other birds nearby. Reggie’s fingers tightened around the cool water between them; it was all he could do to keep from slinking behind Bud as he was faced with Drake’s half glare and furious snarl. It was as if he could see the burning red stirring in the depths of that single eye just begging to be set free once again.

“ _So_ nice of you both to grace us with your presence,” Drake snarled.

“ _Dad_ ,” Gosalyn scolded, “You said you were going to be nice.”

Drake grit his teeth at the idea of being reprimanded by his own child but begrudgingly accepted that she was right, taking in a deep breath to try and calm his irrational fury. “ _Thank_ you,” he said.

Despite the slight exasperation in the tone, Reggie could see that Drake truly was grateful for their cooperation. It was the only thing that resolved the still displeased plant duck to give in and hear what the other man had to say. Although not before he yanked his fingers from Bud’s hand in embarrassment once he realized how entirely too public the display of affection suddenly was. Bud pouted internally but didn’t try to force Reggie to retake his hand.

“So what’s so damn important that you had to drag us down here Mallard?” Bud grumbled.

Drake glared at the tone. “I need your help,” he said, the strain in his voice showing how hard he was trying to keep his cool.

“With what?” Bud asked.

“ _His_ help,” Drake snarled with a curt nod towards the hunched mallard at Bud’s side.

Bud crossed his arms over his chest in disapproval, doing his best to keep his protectiveness of Reggie at bay as his nervous mate stepped forward to address the other man.

“Whatever gets me out of this fucking city faster,” Reggie replied.

For a moment it seemed like his retort made things much worse, the bared teeth and angry sneer making it look very much like Drake was going to rip his throat out. Reggie cringed slightly as visions of Negaduck’s fury raced through his head, unable to stop his feet from taking a few fearful steps backwards in a subconscious attempt to place Bud between himself and the perceived threat. A curious brow lifted as he watched Gosalyn take hold of her father’s hand, forcing the clenched fist to relax long enough to grip her fingers tightly as Drake breathed deeply to get his anger under control. He smiled softly as his daughter, giving her hand a final squeeze before releasing the soft appendage and letting out a thick sigh before continuing.

What came next was more than enough to shock both mutants into a stunned silence.

“I’m sorry,” Drake whispered.

Reggie and Bud shared a shocked look but allowed Drake to continue uninterrupted.

“This is all my fault… and I’m sorry.” Drake cleared his throat awkwardly when his apology was met only with confused stares. “I don’t deserve anything from you… but you’re the only one who can help me.”

“Help with what exactly?” Reggie questioned nervously.

“Please… bring my city back to life,” Drake whispered.

Reggie blinked stupidly at the request. He was almost sure he could hear the waver of tears tugging at the edge of the sentence and it was undeniably jarring after the harsh tone that had preceded it.

Drake sighed heavily when he received only a confused stare and silence in response. “I just thought… If you brought back the plants…”

The look Bud gave him told Reggie that he felt the same twinge of pity for Drake that he did despite what the other man had technically put them through. All around them the crumbling city stood as proof of what Drake had done, and it was hardly a stretch to see why he wanted it to be filled with life.

“We clean up this mess and bury our friends and part of me still wants it all to burn.” Drake choked on his own words, a grimace of pain crossing his face as he struggled to continue. “Please Reggie, I’m so tired of death. I’m tired of _seeing_ death. I have all these bits and pieces of horrible memories. Blood and anger and disgust… people I never even _met_ that I hated. It’s like he’s poisoning me from the inside out! Poisoning me with his memories. _Please_ … please show me life. Remind me that it still exists and it still can be beautiful.”

“…. Dad,” Gosalyn whispered sadly.

Launchpad cleared his throat loudly to distract from his suddenly painfully uncomfortable friend. “We just figured if you could work your fancy magic on them trees again, it might give everyone some kinda hope.”

It was the first thing they had said that really hit home for Reggie. There was no denying that he knew firsthand what an impact hope could really make. He didn’t resist when Bud clasped his hand once again, glancing towards the trees and somehow asking silently for their opinion without even really realizing it. He gasped quietly at their intense cries of approval; apparently they were all too thrilled with the idea of being able to completely take over the city.

Reggie smirked slightly at their almost child-like jubilation, letting out a soft laugh at the overwhelming enthusiasm. “Well, I suppose I _could_ … but, I’m gonna need a lot of water,” he said with a not so subtle glance to his fluid partner.

Bud grinned toothily at the implicit request. “It would be a _pleasure_ ,” he purred.

Reggie aimed a warning look at the all too eager response. “Don’t do anything funny,” he mumbled.

“Oh I take watering you _very_ seriously,” Bud replied impishly as he threw an arm around Reggie’s waist and waggled his eyebrows.

The display might have normally been a source of disgust for Drake but all he really registered from the interaction was that Reggie was agreeing to help him one more time. He beamed uncontrollably at the notion, the faint shine of overjoyed tears shimmering in his eye. Drake quickly rubbed the liquid away at the knowing smirk of his best friend, sending Launchpad a “don’t say a word” stare in return.

Launchpad chuckled at the displeased scowl but decided against saying anything that would embarrass his friend further as he approached the two mutants. “We found this… near that tree of yours,” he said, pulling a small piece of paper from his pocket and opening it to show the contents inside. “We thought you might want it,” he finished quietly, holding the small parcel out for their inspection.

Reggie had to sink his teeth into the inside of his cheek just to keep the grimace of sorrow off his face at the thought of the great willow that had tried so hard to defend him. He swallowed the pain welling in his throat as he pulled himself away from the wet embrace and approached Launchpad tentatively. Bud’s heart broke at the soft sound of pain that Reggie was unable to hold back as he took the small seed into trembling fingers. He approached from behind as Reggie held the last remaining piece of his floral friend to his chest, slipping his arms around him from behind and resting his chin in the soft nest of petals. Bud stiffened at the faint sensation of trembles that ran through his body, the light waves giving evidence of the distressed quivers currently running down Reggie’s spine. He abruptly yanked the mallard off his feet and onto his back, rushing off with him without so much as a warning to the others that they would be departing.

Reggie yelped pathetically at being so abruptly swept off his feet, clutching the seed in his hand tightly as he gripped Bud’s neck for dear life. “ _Warn_ me when you’re gonna do that please,” he grumbled, narrowing his eyes at the smug dog.

Bud chuckled softly at the halfhearted glare. “Seemed like you were in need of a diversion,” he said softly.

Reggie gripped him tighter at the response, easing his clenched fist open slightly to look at the small seed nestled inside. His eyes watered at the sight of the slightly charred and chipped little pod, trying desperately to coax some internal voice from the silent plant. He sighed heavily when he was met with only silence.

“Thank you,” Reggie whispered.

Bud smiled sadly at the woeful show of gratitude, slowing his pace and setting Reggie down gently as they reached the edge of the city. “Besides, I thought you might be anxious to see your friends again,” he said, speaking quietly into Reggie’s ear and rubbing his cool noise gently along the soft green skin as he did so.

Reggie shuddered at the contact, eyes slipping closed for a moment as he soaked in the affection. Bud certainly did have a knack for distracting him. The blue eyes were quickly opened once again as he was suddenly pulled off his roots for a second time, Reggie wheezing slightly as the thick branches encircling his torso tightened in a rib crushing hug.

“They sure as hell missed you,” Bud laughed as he gently pried his companion form the loving limbs currently leaving him breathless.

Reggie gasped for air as more of the sentient flora gathered around them, petting his hair and nuzzling him happily. “Yeah,” he panted, “Guess I should have visited them sooner,” he said with a tender pet to the oddly furry shrub still clinging to his midsection.

Bud smiled at the display, undeniably enamored at the way the plants were fawning over Reggie as though he were some precious treasure. A wet brow cocked at the short sapling that seemed to be sniffing at him, Bud lifting his hand slowly and holding it out as though presenting his water for the young tree’s inspection. He grinned happily when the action seemed to excite the small plant, stroking his fingers affectionately along the pale green leaves as the floral creature quivered in excitement. More plants soon followed, crowding Bud and nuzzling him as if begging for a drink of their own. Reggie flushed at the resulting excitement from the plants. A sharp gasp fell from his bill as it parted, a wave of warmth and excitement rushing through his entire body as Bud stroked the nearby flora.

Bud studied Reggie curiously at the sudden round of almost uncontrollable trembling, slipping behind the quivering mallard and pulling his head back by stroking his fingers along Reggie’s chin. “Didn’t know I was that good,” he said breathily.

Reggie groaned as he rested his body against the watery barrier at his back. “Don’t flatter yourself. The plants are just… _very_ enthusiastic,” he said. “Guess I’m not the only one who likes your water.”

Bud chuckled smugly at the observation. “I aim to please.”

A blissful groan was the only answer Reggie gave.

Bud grinned wider at the quiet response. “Well then, let’s give the people what they want.”

With that simple statement, Bud rushed off in a swirl of water and shimmering sunlight, saturating the ground as he rushed off into the city, pushing aside the layers of rock and rubble like pebbles. As he recruited poisoned water from the bay and cleansed it to a crystal purity the plants all around Reggie quivered and swayed in excitement, grouping closer to the plant duck as they cried out to him to help them grow. Reggie gasped at the almost palpable force that coaxed him to push his roots into the dirt, calling forth a veil of green from the ashen earth that brought with it the color and fragrance of new life.

Reggie’s mind raced as he tried to comprehend the invisible web of energy that was suddenly connecting him to everything around him. He could suddenly feel Bud so clearly through the soil beneath his feet that it was as though the other man was standing right beside him. They both felt it when they touched, that tingling heat, but this was a new experience all together. It lacked the sexual excitement of one of their normal trysts but it offered in replacement a surge of sensation that made Reggie’s heart pound and his breath catch in his throat. It was no longer just Reggie and Bud, it was a joining of animal and nature that was far beyond any of its single parts and it spread through even the deepest recesses of the wounded city.

From their new position atop the nearest tall building, Drake and his family were almost as much in awe of the display as Reggie and Bud were. It was like watching the beginning of the world. Drake couldn’t help the tears flooding his eye, throwing an arm around Gosalyn’s neck and pulling her close as he tried to control himself. He choked out as he was suddenly embraced from behind by Launchpad, the larger man crying happily as he pulled one of his family members into each arm.

“I fuckin’ love happy endings,” Launchpad said with a sniffle.

“Yeah,” Drake wheezed as he detached himself from his overemotional friend. “I know.”

Despite the slight annoyance in his tone a wide smile slipped across Drake’s face, bringing with it the soft sound of laughter and tears of joy that streamed from his single eye. What started as a barely audible chuckle soon grew into an overjoyed laugh the likes of which Gosalyn and Launchpad hadn’t heard in a very long time.

“Thank you,” Drake whispered.

Some part of him even wished Reggie might actually hear him despite the distance separating them, but even if the mutant had been capable of hearing such a soft show of gratitude over such a distance the words still would have been lost amid the far more captivating profusion of activity surrounding him. His eyes were closed and yet he could still somehow clearly see the beautiful wave of glittering blue rushing towards him, making the surrounding plants sparkle with crystal dew as Bud slipped his hands along them. Reggie signed contently at the feeling of Bud’s moist forehead pressed against his petals, smiling softly at the cool feeling that could only mean his lover was nearby. No sooner had he opened his eyes as he was pulled into wet arms and swept away into the now plant covered city. He normally might have been annoyed at the prospect of being carried away like a newly married bride but he was far too lost in the shimmering indigo vision above him. Reggie tried desperately not to blush at the sideways glance and smug smirk he received in response to the enamored look but was only slightly successful at keeping the heat away despite the cool water pressing against his skin. Crossing his thin arms over his chest and forcing a displeased expression onto his face did little to help his case, only resulting in a soft chuckle from Bud as he gently set Reggie back on his roots.

Reggie seemed genuinely confused to suddenly find himself at the train station, or rather what was left of it, and he found his mind reeling in an attempt to pull him away from the still fuzzy feeling of rejuvenating the forest. He stared with unbelieving eyes at the rusted mass of metal in front of him, somehow unable to process that this was the train that would finally take him away from the city at his back and all the memories it represented. It was the shine of red hair, so bright against the otherwise unassuming crowd, that finally brought him back to reality, pulling his attention towards the familiar mop of unruly ruby locks just in time for the other man to turn and shine large teeth and an impish grin at him in irrefutable proof that it was indeed Jack.

Bud’s cocked brow was quickly replaced with a half-smile when he noticed what exactly it was that had caught Reggie’s attention, blowing a wet kiss at the mallard in response to the flirty wink Jack gave him. The subtle exchange was all but lost on Reggie. He was more interested in assuring himself that Jack’s companion had indeed survived his recent peril and he couldn’t resist grinning slightly at the rodent as Elmo set his eyes upon him. The small smile and fleeting wave were met with something of a mix between discomfort and confusion and Reggie’s heart sunk at the blaring realization of the reaction: there was no evidence of recognition at all. Elmo didn’t even know who they were anymore, and Reggie couldn’t help the slight stab of pain at the knowledge. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was going to miss the forgetful rodent.

The sudden grimace of pain was a shock to Bud. “Reggie?” he questioned softly as he reached out towards his entranced companion. “Are you okay?”

Reggie jolted at the gentle touch that ripped him from his lament, turning on Bud with shocked eyes. He immediately regretted the unintentional response as he regarded the dog’s suddenly hunched demeanor and pathetically drooped ears. He certainly hadn’t meant to make Bud feel like his touch was unwanted, even if it was for only a fleeting moment, and having him look like a kicked puppy didn’t help. Reggie immediately did the only thing he could think of to reassure the other man quickly, grabbing Bud’s hand in a far harsher and more jerky manner than he had intended. Apparently he needed practice showing his affection.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Reggie said softly. He rubbed his thumb against the wet skin of Bud’s hand in nervous circles, unable to stop the hint of tears from flooding into his eyes as he turned back towards the now departing duo they had been observing, somehow even more upset that Jack had stolen Elmo’s attention to distract from the confusing exchange. “I just…I-I.. I think I’m actually gonna miss that stupid rat,” he said whipping frantically at his wet eyes with his free hand.

Bud’s face fell at the confession. He was aware that Reggie had enjoyed Elmo’s company but he had somehow managed to miss the fact that the two had grown as close as they had. He pulled Reggie close at the thought, looking back at the crowd as his companion composed himself. “Should I be jealous?” he questioned playfully in an attempt to distract Reggie from the unpleasant notion that Elmo was no longer aware that he had ever cared about the living plant at all.

He was met with exactly the sort of disapproving look that he had expected.

Bud laughed at the expression, holding Reggie closer in an unspoken reassurance that he was only joking. “Oh come on don’t give me that look Reg. I was just trying to make you feel better.”

“Yeah.. I know,” Reggie replied as he attempted to contain the perpetual film of liquid that kept coating his eyes. “I really am fucking pathetic, aren’t I?” he said, rubbing at his eyes in frustration.

“… Is this one of those loaded question things?”

Reggie actually laughed at the response, smiling stupidly despite the still displeased feeling at the back of his mind. “More like fishing for reassurance from my _boyfriend_ ,” he said.

Bud’s face lit up with a toothy grin that extended far beyond the proportions that would have been possible had he been restrained by normal flesh.

Reggie flushed at the overjoyed, if somewhat self-satisfied, expression. “Watch it or I’m never saying it again,” he grumbled.

“I didn’t say anything,” Bud said, smile not budging an inch as he did so.

Reggie was unable to keep the frown on his face at the extent of joy the simple title had elicited in his most cherished friend. “Just get me out of this shit hole, will ya?” he said with a slight chuckle.

The request was oddly shocking to Bud. It had been so long since he had been outside the city that he had somehow managed to not really register the fact that they would be leaving it and he was suddenly hit with a disconcerting mix of excitement and fear. He shook the thought from his head replacing it with the firm assertion that he no longer needed this city or its memories. Even if he was going to miss the whole fame thing.

“Whatever you want babe,” Bud said, “But what do ya say we get ourselves a prime seat?”

Bud did his best not to enjoy the slight squeak Reggie let out as he was suddenly lifted off his roots and dragged up the side of the already moving train, but he couldn’t help but admit that he enjoyed the adorable result of startling the duck. The soft growl of displeasure caught in Reggie’s throat as soon as the train cleared the station, morphing into a slight gasp of awe at the sight before him. Bud had been right, the top of the train was indeed a prime seat, and as Reggie took in the sight of the city they had grown together. The shimmer of green and distant cries of thankful flora put Reggie’s soul at ease in a way he had never experienced before leaving him with a sense of calm that he didn’t even know he was capable of. The plants had claimed every inch of the metropolis, reaching deep into the crumbling buildings as though attempting to stitch the entire thing back together. Reggie smiled softly at the sight, leaning back against Bud to steady himself as the train picked up as much speed as it could manage in its still impaired state.

It suddenly occurred to Reggie that he didn’t even know exactly where the limping locomotive was heading, but he knew it didn’t matter as long as he had the only thing he really needed. It was never going to be perfect, of that he was sure, for there was one thing he had learned most strongly from his experience in the twisted city: in this world there is no one thing that is wholly good or completely evil. It is an upward battle that crushes souls and leaves rubble in its wake, but beneath the dirt and debris there is always something worth digging for, a pearl in the ruins that makes everything worthwhile, and as Reggie looked back at the city one last time he found himself hoping that Drake had learned the same lesson.

For within a St. Canard of some distortion, justice rules once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there it is. The official end of my story. There may be more in this series including a sequel and several prequels so if you support more metalverse stories please leave a comment!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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